She blinked a few times, clearing her foggy head, reminding herself that the crickets chirping weren’t real. The sunlight was fake. It was as much a fabricated prison as the menagerie. At the heart of it, they weren’t any different from those drugged kids.
Nok and Rolf were stretched out on the grass, dressed only in their underwear, playing with the painting kit. Not far away, Mali was toying with the radio, twisting the volume to make the voices rise and fall, rise and fall. Blue paint coated her arms. Rolf had blue streaks over one arm too, and was in the midst of painting a yellow swirl on Nok’s stomach. He dotted her cheek with paint and she laughed, trying to take the brush from him, getting gooey blobs of paint all over them. Their candy-stained lips met, and the brush fell from his hand. They started making out, right in front of Mali and the dozens of black windows.
And the Kindred thought humankind was evolving? If anything, it was devolving.
A hand clamped over her shoulder, and she jumped.
Lucky stood behind her, guitar half forgotten in one hand. His dark eyes raked over her. The last time they’d been together, everything had changed. She had thought she’d found a friend in him. More than that. Someone who made her feel less alone, a boy with a broken hand and a dimple in one cheek, and yet it had all been a lie. We need to grow up, his voice echoed in her head. He had betrayed her the night of the accident, and he had betrayed her here too, when he said he didn’t believe in escape. Cora’s heart didn’t know how fast to beat.
Should she shove him away? Or forgive him?
He answered the questions in her head when he let the guitar fall into the grass, forgotten. He pulled her into his arms.
She clenched her eyes shut. She couldn’t bring herself to hug him back. She couldn’t quite pull away either.
“What happened?” His voice sounded older.
She shook her head against his shoulder. “Where’s Leon? I want everyone to hear this.”
“No one’s seen him in days.”
“Days?” Cora pulled away, confused. She glanced toward Nok and Rolf, who hadn’t yet noticed that she was back. “I’ve only been gone a couple of hours.”
Lucky was very quiet, searching her eyes with his own. “You’ve been gone three days.”
Her heart pounded harder. The Kindred controlled the sunlight, so they could set a day to be however long they wanted. So did this mean instead of four more days until she faced removal, she only had one? It was already the twenty-first day?
Mind racing, she hurried over to where the others were sprawled. Nok glanced at her briefly, then went back to mixing paint. “Hey. You’re back.”
She spoke casually, like Cora had gone on a stroll to the beach, not been taken by the Kindred for three days. And yet Cora detected a flicker of annoyance in her voice—at interrupting her painting, or at being back at all, she wasn’t sure.
Rolf didn’t even pretend to be pleased to see her. “Come back to apologize, I hope?”
“Apologize for what?”
He let out a coarse laugh. “Right. Pretend like nothing’s happened. Where do you claim to have been for three days, if not sneaking around with Leon and stealing our food? If I didn’t know so much about gardening, we might have starved because of your games.”
She let out a frustrated cry. “You still think I’m still stealing food? How? I haven’t even been here! I’ve been with the Caretaker!”
Rolf’s face reddened. His fingers massaged his head as his eye twitched. “Well, now it makes sense. You got him on your side against us. You’re his favorite, after all. He’d do whatever you asked. Change the weather. Stop feeding us. Have you been watching us this entire time, laughing as we starved?”
“Of course not!” Her own head was throbbing. She squeezed her tired eyes shut, resisting the temptation to smack Rolf. Laughing with the Caretaker? More like the slow torture of seeing what they really did to humans. “Listen. I know you don’t like me. You don’t have to. I’ve seen more of their station and I think I know how we can get back to Earth, but we’ll have to act quickly. They’re speeding time up in here. If it’s already the twenty-first day, they might be on to us.” Cora pinched the inside of her arm hard enough to cause a steady stream of pain, glancing at the shadowy figures beyond the black windows.
Lucky had been pacing behind her, but he stopped at her mention of Earth. At the same time, the paintbrush froze in Nok’s hand. Rolf and Mali exchanged a silent glance, but Cora dismissed it.
“The Caretaker took me through a marketplace,” she continued. “I saw some other species. The Mosca.” She glanced at Mali, whose face remained stoic. “You said they were black market traders. Well, they speak English. I heard them talking to human kids they took from Earth. They said they’d be going back to Earth soon for another supply run. If we can just find the fail-safe exit and get out of here, we could negotiate with the Mosca to get a ride back home.”
None of the others spoke. Nok seemed intently focused on the tip of her paintbrush. Why weren’t they happy about her news?
“Cora,” Lucky said slowly, “you haven’t been sleeping. You really just need to rest.”
Cora shook her head in frustration. “It isn’t about that. Look, I can’t do it on my own. And I don’t want to. Mali, you must know the hallways of this station. We’ll need you to get us back to the market without anyone seeing us. Leon’s a black market trader at home, so he can handle the negotiations. Cassian said they aren’t loyal to any particular race. All they care about is payment. We’ve got all the tokens from the games, and I saw the same tokens out there too, so maybe they’re worth real money. If I have to, I’ll cut off my hair and use that to pay for our trip.”
Nok and Rolf exchanged a troubled glance. Lucky clenched his jaw, listening and nodding as his eyes darted around to nothing in particular. He had seemed relieved to have her back—so why did she now feel ice down her spine?
“Cora.” His voice was soft. Too soft. Pitying. “There’s something you don’t know.”
The ice down her back spread to her tailbone. She looked to Mali, who only nudged a paintbrush with her toe. Rolf whispered something in Nok’s ear; she let out a giggle before clamping a hand over her candy-stained lips.
Lucky didn’t meet her eyes. “Cora, there’s no point trying to escape. Earth is gone.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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37
Cora
THE WORDS CREPT OVER her like a cold mist. Gone? She felt like a stranger in her own body. The wind was blowing, but she felt nothing. The air had lost the smell of flowering trees, replaced with the ozone she’d smelled the first day. Gone? What about Charlie? Her parents? What about her bedroom with the stars on the ceiling, and Sadie asleep at the foot of her bed, and her notebook of half-written lyrics stashed beneath her pillow? Gone? She didn’t need to look down to know her hands were still attached to her wrists—in the same way, she still felt the pull of home.
She shook her head like he’d spoken a foreign language. “What are you talking about?”
Lucky rubbed the back of his neck. “Mali told us. She found out from the Caretaker. It happened right after they took us. That is why there’s no point in trying to escape—there’s nothing to escape to.” For once, he wasn’t popping the knuckles in his left hand.
The fog in her head grew, turning colder by the minute. She threw a hesitant look between the others. None of it made any sense. If Earth was gone, why hadn’t the Caretaker told her? He certainly wasn’t shy about showing her the terrible things that happened in the menageries. And there were the Mosca’s words in the market too. He’d talked about his next supply run to Earth like it was a foregone conclusion.
Her eyes fell on Mali, standing cryptically silent, pinching her own wrist. “How do we know you aren’t lying? If you were working with the Kindred, this would be the perfect thing to say to make us gi
ve up hope. And if it was coming from you, not them, we’d be more likely to believe it.”
Mali didn’t answer.
“They’ve never lied to us,” Rolf declared.
Cora threw out her arms toward the mountain range and the ocean and the farm. “This whole place is a lie!”
“No—it’s a chance.” Rolf had been massaging his temples like his head ached, but he abruptly dropped his hands. His voice had an edge of authority that she’d never heard before. What had happened, while she was gone, that made him the leader? “They’ve created an entire new world for us. We’re like gods to them.”
“A world? Props and tricks, that’s all it is. Do you know what the Caretaker showed me, out there? Kids for sale in a market. A little girl made to do tricks. She had blond hair just like mine, but they’d cut it all off, and two of her fingers as well. They drugged her and made her curtsy and clap her hands and kiss like a deranged sideshow. That’s how much they value us, Rolf. We aren’t gods to them. We’re playthings.”
“Listen to yourself! First they give you special treatment. More tokens. Your stupid song on the jukebox, over and over. A private tour of the Kindred’s space station. And now you’re ungrateful for all that they’ve done for you? Why in the world are they still keeping you around? You’re stealing our food. You’re trying to sabotage us. It doesn’t make any sense! What, are you sleeping with the Caretaker or something?”
Everyone fell silent. Cora’s heart started thumping. He didn’t know how close he’d hit to the truth. That moment in the fountain room, his lips so close to hers . . .
No. It wasn’t like that. That was sick.
The light shifted to a late afternoon gold. The Greasy Fork door slid open, and the sound of Cora’s song cranked up on the jukebox. All their heads turned.
“The diner’s finally open again,” Nok said in surprise.
“It’s a trick,” Rolf answered quickly. “I told you, she’s got the Caretaker on her side somehow. She probably asked him to do this, so it would look like she wasn’t behind them stealing our food. We shouldn’t trust it. I have the system in the farm perfectly planned out. If we just stick to our vegetable rations—”
“I am tired of raw carrots,” Mali said flatly. She started up the diner steps. Nok had a hand pressed over her stomach, practically drooling at the smells coming from the diner, but she kept biting her lip and looking at Rolf in indecision.
“Fine,” Rolf said. “We’ll eat the food. Cora, I’m in charge now, and I say that you aren’t allowed in. You can try surviving off the farm for a while and see how you like it.” He started moving toward the door.
“Wait—I can prove it!” she cried, standing between them and the diner. “I saw a comic book from Earth in the market. Its date was two years in the future. That proves that Earth couldn’t have ended when we were taken. They must be lying.” Cora’s heart thudded to the heavy beats of music. They had to see that this was all just a trick. Just the thought of Earth being gone shrunk her soul. That it was ashes now, Sadie and her family, the gap-toothed girl from Bay Pines, and the NPR reporter on the radio with his smooth voice, and her entire town, and state, and country.
No. It couldn’t be gone.
Nok brushed the pink strand of hair from her face to reveal a pitying look. “You look really tired. After lunch, let’s go to the beauty parlor. I’ll paint your nails. We’ll get some chocolates, yeah?”
Cora stared at the dot of yellow paint on Nok’s nose. Was she going crazy—or were they? Rolf scooped up the paintbrush, wrapped an arm around Nok, and skirted past Cora to enter the diner. Mali went behind them, licking her lips.
Lucky was the only one left. Cora went pale, thinking of their last conversation—the one that had made her run.
It’s time to grow up, he had said.
“Do you believe me, Lucky? That Earth is still there?”
He wiggled his toes in the long grass. “I don’t see why Mali would lie. She doesn’t care either way.”
“Maybe they lied to her too.” She hated the pleading tone in her voice, but she needed him to understand. “I’m not willing to take our captors’ word for it. If Earth is gone, I want to see it with my own eyes. The Mosca could take us there. We have a chance.”
He didn’t answer, and panic clutched at her throat. “I forgive you for everything, Lucky. For lying to the police about the accident. For taking my father’s money. I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is what happens now. You were going to risk your life for your country back home—don’t you still care about it? Don’t you still want that beach, and a beer, and a girl?”
“I have a beach,” he said quietly. “And I thought I had a girl too. Just drop all this talk about escape. Rolf . . . he sees you as a threat now. He thinks you and Leon are conspiring against us. He isn’t going to trust you anymore, now that you’re making these wild claims. Can’t you just accept this for what it is? Your father’s gone. All our sins are omitted. This can be the fresh start that we’ve always wanted.”
“That you’ve always wanted. I never wanted to walk away from my problems, move across the country because I couldn’t face my mother’s murderer.”
He clenched his jaw, then slowly shook his head. “You aren’t thinking straight. You should listen to Rolf. He’s a genius—he knows what’s best. We still have time to obey, Cora. The twenty-first day isn’t over until tonight.”
She stared at him, knowing exactly what he meant. “And if I don’t?”
He picked up the guitar. Flexed his knuckles. Didn’t meet her eyes. “Then you’re on your own.”
He climbed the steps to join the others. She clutched at her necklace, feeling the weight of the charms. The golf clubs for her dad. The theater mask for her mother. How could she give up on ever seeing them again?
She spun on her heels, trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and Lucky. She followed the path through the wildflower field to the desert and climbed the nearest dune until her calves burned and her resolve gave out, and she sank to the sand.
She heaved a breath and combed back her hair. She’d seen the date on the comic book. She’d heard the Mosca talking. If that ten-year-old Icelandic girl from the menagerie had escaped three times, why couldn’t she? She should forget the others. That’s how the girl at Bay Pines had escaped—alone. Thanks to Mali, Cora knew how to hide her thoughts. She just had to find the fail-safe exit, hide out in the corridors, and make her way to the black market traders. She’d take a weapon disguised as a toy—no one was cutting off her fingers to make into tea—and negotiate with them. Her wheat-blond hair for a ride back to Earth.
But can I really leave the others here?
She twisted her hair in her fist. Below, at the base of the dune, the shimmering ocean seemed even brighter. Cora felt on the verge of something, like pieces of a dream coming back to her, or a song she had long ago forgotten the words to. Pain fractured her skull as the ocean grew so bright she had to squint against it. Why would the Kindred turn the lights up? She clutched her hands to the sides of her head, wincing against the pain. She could almost see a shape moving among the waves. A swimmer.
The dead girl’s ghost, she thought. Cora was still wearing her dress.
No—ghosts didn’t exist. She rubbed her eyes, but her ears were roaring too. Her sense of balance felt off. Was it another panic attack? Or a pulsing headache, like she’d had in the bookstore?
Her hands buckled against the sand. Her head threatened to rupture. Just as suddenly, the harsh light and colors muted back into reality. The lights were the same dusky evening shade as always. The waves lapped calmly. Even her headache eased. It was as though nothing had happened. She pushed herself up from the sand with shaky legs.
Is this how people lose their minds?
She glanced toward the tangled jungle. Lucky had told her she was on her own, but there was still a tattooed Maori smuggler out there. Rolf already thought they were conspiring together. Leo
n might still want to escape as badly as she did. But she wasn’t going out there without a way to protect herself. For all she knew, Leon’s heart might have grown as black as the tattoos on his face.
THAT EVENING, WHILE THE others ate, she tiptoed back to the house, up the stairs to Lucky’s bedroom. The guitar rested on his pillow.
Cora touched it gently, afraid the wood wouldn’t be wood at all, but it was hard beneath her fingers, and when she knocked, it made a hollow sound. A memory returned of Rolf trying to play it while the others danced in the rain, so blindly happy. She picked up the guitar by its slender neck and clamped her fingers over the strings to stifle any errant notes. Then she slammed it with all her strength against the dresser.
It splintered. The long neck ripped off and strings snapped. The echo of notes faded gradually. She glanced out the window to make sure the others hadn’t heard, then assessed the wreckage. She could bury the splintered wood in the mulched paths, and Lucky would never know. He’d assume that the Kindred had taken it, or Leon had stolen it, or maybe the captivity would get to him and he’d forget he’d ever owned a guitar . . . just like, in time, he would forget about her.
She wrapped the six guitar strings around her wrist like bangles and sneaked out toward the jungle.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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38
Mali
NORMALLY MALI DIDN’T MIND the Greasy Fork, with its jukebox music and checkerboard tablecloths, but today everything about the diner annoyed her. She picked at her food, ignoring Nok’s plea to go to the beauty parlor together.
“But you would look so pretty with curls,” Nok argued.
Frustrated, Mali shoved her chair out and slunk from the room, leaving her pudding unfinished. She squinted up at the scalding sunlight and hugged Rolf’s military coat more tightly around her.
She couldn’t shake something that Cora had said: when Cassian had taken her to the menageries, she’d seen a little girl with blond hair shorn closely and missing two fingers. Mali had been through too many owners to keep count, but the last one had been the worst. He’d kept her and another girl locked in cages and made them fight each other or animals.