The Death Code

  Because of the system, I sway the way my mother used to sway. Because of the torture, I can harness the cold, hard hatred that blackened her heart.

  I can become her.

  I have become her.

  And no one will stand in my way.

  CHAPTER 58

  ZEPHYR

  I’m sitting on the edge of the roof, letting my legs dangle over the world, when Sketch finds me.

  “Thinking of jumping?” she asks.

  She sits down beside me, hangs her scarred legs over the edge. The wind is strong. It tugs at the laces on our boots, almost like it’s whispering for us to just lean a little farther out.

  Fall into the abyss.

  “Why are we doing this, Sketch?” I ask.

  Birds fly overhead, just a few black splotches that disappear into the dark clouds.

  Sketch doesn’t answer, so I go on.

  “Why are we staying with her? She doesn’t want us. She’s going to die in there. I can feel it. If we follow her, we’ll die, too. This whole mission is suicide.”

  Sketch spits over the edge. We watch it fall until it’s out of sight. “Love makes us do stupid things,” she says.

  I turn to her. “I thought you said you couldn’t love.”

  “I lied.” She laughs, a hollow sound. “Did you know I had a sister, once? She was just like Meadow. Reckless. Angry. Strong.”

  “Meadow reminds you of her,” I say. It’s not a question. I should have known the entire time, the way Sketch makes excuses for Meadow. The way she stays by her side without questioning it. She’s replacing her sister with Meadow.

  Sketch nods. “We can’t bring back the people we’ve lost, but we can find pieces of them in others.”

  It starts to rain, little drops of water dancing down from the sky. I tilt my head back and let the drops burst onto my tongue.

  Sketch sighs. “Woodson doesn’t care about anyone besides her family. But then there’s you. There’s always been you. I said she whispered Peri’s name, in that dirty cell. But she also whispered yours, Zephyr. Every night, I heard your name, over and over.”

  “I killed Lark,” I say. “She hates me now. Whatever was between us is gone.”

  Sketch’s laughter is nearly lost in the rain. It pounds down now, soaks my clothes, my hair. “Meadow loves you. She’s just too scared to admit it.”

  “And you?” I ask. “What about you?”

  She shrugs. “No one loves me. No one ever will. It’s better that way.”

  “You can’t really believe that,” I say, but Sketch waves a hand, and my voice trails off.

  I don’t know why I do it. But as thunder rumbles the sky, and lightning strikes overhead, I reach out and put my arm over her shoulders. At first she tenses up. But then, when I refuse to let go, she leans against me. She’s warm and solid. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine the rain is the sound of the ocean.

  We’re somewhere safe and free. We’re not Patients. We’re just people.

  “We’re the same,” I say. “You and me. We broke free of the system, and now we’re trailing after the girl who holds the key to its life in her brain. Are we stupid, Sketch? Are we cursed to always follow the Murder Complex in some way?”

  “We’re not cursed,” Sketch says. “We’re bound by love. Love makes it harder to see the darker side of things. When I look at her, all I see is the sun.”

  The rain drowns out the sound of the world.

  “We’re going with her, aren’t we?” I ask.

  Sketch nods.

  “You and me,” she says.

  We sit together on the edge of the world until the storm passes.

  We don’t talk anymore, and we don’t have to, because the decision radiates between us. The fear, the questions, but there is no longer any doubt.

  We’re going back inside the walls.

  Only this time, we don’t know what waits for us on the other side.

  Meadow has brought her mother back from the dead.

  She looks at me, and I see nothing but emptiness in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, as we follow the General and his soldiers through the parking garage, up the ramp. I grab Meadow’s arm, but she shakes it off. “Meadow. Can we talk about this, please?”

  She stares straight ahead. “There is nothing to talk about. You killed my mother. You did it because you had to. And now, I can’t look at you without seeing her blood on your hands.”

  “She put blood on my hands, from tons of innocent people,” I hiss.

  Sketch marches beside her, wearing Leech black. “She put blood on my hands too, Woodson. Let it go. Zero did us all a favor.”

  “You two are idiots,” Meadow hisses. She looks at Sketch. “You are only slightly less of an idiot than he is.”

  Sketch explodes with laughter. She wraps her arm around Meadow’s shoulders, and suddenly I’m the ChumHead in the back, alone, marching along in a Leech uniform. Following Meadow like some homeless dog. Sasha, the New Militia member who runs the telescope, is going with us. She falls back beside me, her red hair tied in a bun. It shows off the new Leech tattoo on her neck. The open eye. I’ve got to hand it to her; she’s committed to the disguise.

  Talan would have done the same thing, and if she were here, she’d tell me to man up and forget about Meadow for a while. Let her come to me.

  “You hanging in there?” Sasha asks. She nods in Meadow’s direction.

  I blow out a mouthful of air. “You don’t even want to know. I screwed this up, bad.”

  She laughs. “She seems like a tough one.”

  “Tough doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  “Well, I’ve seen the way she looks at you, when you’re not looking at her.” Sasha winks and nudges me with her hip. “There’s hope in there somewhere. There’s always hope. Sometimes it just takes a little patience before it shows itself.”

  The General stops up ahead, motions for the two guards at the gate to open it. Sunlight pours in from the outside, and the sounds of so many people on the packed streets. Sweat beads on my forehead.

  It’s like we never left the Shallows.

  The gate screeches and groans as it rises into the ceiling, just enough for us to pass through. The guards stand at the ready with their rifles.

  “Remember the plan.” The General turns to me, Meadow, Sketch, and Sasha. “As soon as you get there, you have seventy-two hours to find your family and make contact, as Miss Woodson decided upon. If you don’t, we’ll assume the worst. You’ll be on your own.” He looks us all over, then lands his gaze on Meadow. “Remember what I said. I’m counting on you, Soldier.”

  There’s a secret between them. Something that’s hidden, and I don’t like it.

  Meadow lifts her hand, does what I’ve learned is called a salute.

  I know what it means.

  It means her freedom is gone. She’s already a part of the General’s army.

  I lift my hand, salute him, too. Meadow throws me a glare.

  “I go where you go,” I say, and shrug.

  “Oh, for the love of fluxing . . . Can we just get on with it already?” Sketch groans.

  The General sends us into the streets.

  I hope the plan works. Because it if doesn’t, we’re all going to die.

  CHAPTER 59

  MEADOW

  The weakness fades inside of me. I feel strength come back in a surge.

  I know what is happening to me. But I hold that secret to myself.

  At least for now, I’m strong enough to run with everyone else. At this rate, we will make it to the train tracks in a few hours’ time. The storm has finally passed.

  We pass back through the city, through the packs of people. This time, when they see us dressed as Initiative soldiers, they shy away. They avoid our eyes, like they’re afraid of us. We have rifles on our shoulders, the same way the soldiers in the Shallows always did.

  But it’s not the guns.

  It’s the look of us.

&n
bsp; Even on the Outside, the people fear the Initiative.

  “Sometimes the Initiative combs the streets,” Sasha says. “They take people at random, load them on to their trains.”

  “Why?” Sketch asks, as we leave the city behind and follow chunks of an old road, bits and pieces blown away.

  Sasha shakes her head. “We think they take them to the Ridge, and to the Drop. Never the Shallows, though. That one is full, from what we’ve gathered.” She smiles for a second. “But you three made it out, didn’t you?”

  I sidestep a pipe that sticks out of the concrete like it is stretching for the sky. “We didn’t make it out without casualties.”

  Behind me, Zephyr says nothing.

  We walk until the large road ends, and a smaller one begins. There are old homes, scattered about. Remnants of a neighborhood that might have been beautiful once. Some of the homes look almost intact, and for a moment as I stare at the boarded-up windows, I think about the families that have taken up residence inside.

  I wonder if they are like mine.

  An older brother who sees the beauty in art, even when the world around him is shattered like glass. A little sister who loves to laugh, whose voice is like music. A father who shows love through teaching the art of survival, and a mother who is dead. Then not dead. Then dead all over again.

  I trip over my feet, as my body suddenly switches back.

  Weakness grabs ahold of me.

  I go down to the concrete, and I can’t catch myself.

  “Meadow,” Sketch says. She never uses my name unless she’s worried. “You all right?” She kneels beside me, sweeps my hair back from my face. I’m dripping sweat, but I feel cold.

  I shiver, and she puts an arm over my shoulders, helps me sit up.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I can keep going. We have to make it to the train on time.”

  Suddenly I feel a lurching in my stomach. I lean over, spew vomit onto the concrete. My throat burns, as if someone has scalded it with fire. I close my eyes, beg my body to work with me.

  I have to make it to the train.

  “We have to stop,” Sketch hisses.

  “It’s fine, Sketch, I can keep going,” I say. I open my eyes.

  Zephyr and Sasha lean over us from above. “It’s not fine,” Zephyr says. “Look at it, Meadow.”

  He points at the vomit.

  It is full of blood.

  CHAPTER 60

  ZEPHYR

  She’s dying.

  Meadow is dying. That has to be the only explanation for what’s going on. Every step is like agony for her. She falls, and her nose keeps dripping, and she’s puking blood now on top of it all.

  Her whole body shakes. She goes from hot to cold and back again.

  Sketch and Sasha and I take turns helping her move along, one of us on each side of her, one behind in case she falls backward. At first she’s able to get enough strength to keep up with us. But an hour passes, and she’s soaked in sweat. Trembling like it’s the middle of winter.

  She throws up again.

  More blood.

  Her nose trickles it and I don’t know what to do, how to help her.

  “We just have to get to the tracks,” she says.

  Her voice is so weak.

  Sketch and I share a look, and there’s a silent message in it.

  Fear.

  When we stop to rest in the shadow of something called a gas station, I pull Sasha aside. “Have you seen anything like this before?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No. We don’t die, Zephyr. You know that. We don’t even get sick.”

  I look at Meadow and Sketch, huddled together against the back of an old gas pump. Sketch pulls Meadow’s curls back from her face. She rubs sweat from her brow and whispers something to her. Meadow nods weakly.

  I have to look away. “She’s sick. It’s plain as day. The Surgeon back in your camp . . . He knew something, and he wasn’t saying it. What did he know?”

  Sasha puts her hands on my shoulders. “I don’t know anything, I promise. If we can make this work, the Initiative has doctors that will save her. We’ll take some captive. Force them to fix her. But first we have to get to the Ridge.” She raises her voice so we can all hear. “All right, team. Time to move.”

  We leave one neighborhood, enter another, and then leave that one behind. We go through a wooded area, packed with kids. It’s like the Reserve back in the Shallows. I want to stop here, stay in a place that feels familiar.

  But Meadow is dying.

  Stars, I can’t stop thinking the words. They aren’t true. There’s no way they could be, but when I look at her, doubt sinks its teeth into my soul.

  “Just get to the train,” I say, and I don’t know if it’s to myself or Meadow or everyone else, but I don’t care.

  An hour passes. An hour and a half. An hour and forty-five minutes.

  We finally see the tracks up ahead.

  “We’re almost there,” I say to Meadow, and by now, she crumples. I put her on my back, and Sketch stays behind me, to help hold her on.

  “I’ll run ahead,” Sasha says. “I’ll flag them down.” She looks at Meadow, shakes her head. “She has to be ready when the soldiers stop. She has to become Lark.”

  “I will,” Meadow gasps.

  Sasha sprints away, red hair dancing like fire. Sketch and I move along, slow, so fluxing slow.

  The train comes, rumbling like a great metal beast. It’s a small train, a few cars, but it’s got the Leech eye. Luck is on our side, because this train isn’t from the Shallows. It’s coming from the north, from the Ridge.

  This has to work.

  I see Sasha wave her arms, jump up and down. The train doesn’t slow. She swings her rifle around, fires off a few rounds into the air.

  By now the driver’s face is clear. Other Leeches poke their heads out of a door.

  They point at Sasha, and she fires off another round in the air.

  Finally, the train squeals, as the driver slams the breaks.

  “Yes,” Sketch says. “Come on.”

  We run as best as we can.

  We reach Sasha’s side just as the train comes to a stop.

  The door swings open, and suddenly Leeches pour out, rifles aimed and ready.

  “Finally!” Sasha yells, and it’s like she turns into another person. She puts one hand on her hip, lets her rifle drop. “What the hell took you so long? My wrist mic breaks, and it’s like a ghost town out here. Well? Where have you been?”

  The Leech in charge steps forward. He’s tall, slim. He points his rifle at Sasha’s face. “Who are you?”

  Sasha stares back at him. “I work in the SPC department, back in the Shallows.”

  The Leech raises a brow. “Shallows? That’s eighty miles south of here, Soldier. Care to tell me what you’re doing so far from your post? You an Abandoner?” He takes another step forward. The Leeches behind him grunt and shuffle to come closer.

  Sasha laughs. “I am the angel of opportunity,” she says. “Bring her forward!”

  I realize she’s talking to Sketch and me. We bring Meadow forward, help her to her feet.

  “Lark Woodson, boys,” Sasha says. “The Creator.”

  It takes all Meadow’s strength to put her feet down, stand on her own, and look them in the eyes.

  But what I see in her erases everything from our past, morphs her into someone she’s never wanted to be.

  “Get me to the Ridge,” she says. Her voice is so perfect, so spot on with that twinge of a song, the same voice I hear in my head when the Murder Complex calls to me, that I forget she’s Meadow at all.

  She is Lark Woodson, through and through.

  “You’re dead,” the Leech gasps.

  Meadow laughs, sways on her feet, and I know it’s because she’s fighting to stand, but it’s perfect. “I’m only dead if I say I’m dead, Soldier. Now get me on that train, turn it back around, and take me and my team to the Ridge.”

  “Those aren??
?t my orders,” the Leech says.

  Meadow throws her head back and laughs. Blood drips from her nose, and she doesn’t move to wipe it away.

  “The Resistance bastards came. They tore apart my lab, and set my own doctors against me at gunpoint. Now unless you’re deaf, I suggest you put me on that train and take me to the Ridge, and straight to the team there, so I can finally speak to someone who is not completely incompetent.” She looks over her shoulder, at us. “The people we call our employees, I swear.”

  She sways again.

  The soldier lifts his wrist mic. He opens his mouth, is about to speak.

  Meadow drops.

  Everyone gasps, and because they’re soldiers, they instinctively go to help the one in charge. Whether they really believe it’s her or not.

  It’s the chance we need.

  We open fire, one round right after the next, until our rifles are smoking.

  The Leeches lay dead in a pile.

  CHAPTER 61

  MEADOW

  I drift in and out of consciousness. I hear Zephyr’s soft, gentle voice. Sketch’s harsh laugh. The train rumbles beneath me, and I know we’ve made it on.

  Sasha’s voice comes over a loudspeaker, from the driver’s seat. “Settle in, Soldiers,” she says. “It’s going to be a long ride.”

  The light of day fades, and the next time I wake, it is dark with night.

  I shiver.

  Where is the heat of summer? I think of Peri, alone and shivering in the Ridge, on the video that the Commander showed me.

  I tell myself she is safe and warm, back on the houseboat in the Shallows. I tell myself none of this ever happened.

  Zephyr approaches beside me. A blanket is draped over my legs.

  “Try to drink,” he says. Water is forced into my mouth. I throw it back up.

  I smell blood.

  A hand finds mine beneath the blanket. It’s strong and warm, and even though I know it’s Zephyr’s, and I should be mad at him, I hang on. I’m afraid that if I let go, death will come and steal me away.

  I hope the General was right to believe in me.

  I hope my plan works.

  The rumbling of the train beneath my body lulls me back to sleep.