Rebellion (29 page)

“Thank you for your loyalty, Clementine.”

The way he says that word—
loyalty—
almost sounds like a subtle threat.

“I will always be loyal to you,” I say automatically.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says.

The elevator arrives, and I step inside. As I press the button for my floor in Slumber Division, a sour taste fills my mouth. The taste of fear.

It seemed like he was speaking to the real me, the one trapped inside. It seemed like he can tell I’m trying to break free because I didn’t shoot Skylar.

He’s reminding me he can tell one of his loyal followers to shoot me, and they won’t falter as I did. They will pull the trigger.

27

In my dream, I lie in the dark of the Crust camp, surrounded by croacher nests. My body is paralyzed; I can’t move.

The silver-and-blue bugs skitter close to me, brushing my bare arms and legs with their feelers. If they bite me, their venom will keep me paralyzed forever. I will never be able to get out of here.

Nellie and Hector are standing nearby. They could help me, but all they do is laugh.

A giant croacher crawls up onto my palm, its long legs scurrying over my skin. I scream. I shake my hand to get it off me, but my hand remains limp on the ground.

The bug pauses at the center of my palm. Its body twitches, and its silver eyes gleam in the dark.

It sinks its teeth into my skin and a garbled scream erupts from my throat.

*   *   *

I wake with sweaty palms, shoving and kicking my sheets away like they’re the croachers. But it was just a dream. I’m not in the camp anymore.

You’re okay
, I tell myself. Everything is okay.

I close my eyes until my breathing slows down. When I’m lying here, it feels like I’m in control again. I almost forget I’m trapped inside my skin.

Then my arms push me up into a sitting position, and my legs kick the sheets back the rest of the way without my permission. And I remember.

I remember Charlie is making me take another dose of serum today. I remember he’s putting me on a ship and making me capture my friends. I almost wish I were still trapped in the croacher dream. At least I would wake up.

Today is real; it is happening.

After standing, I walk into the bathroom to wash up. I pause in front of the mirror to stare at my reflection. Some of the bleach washed out of my hair with the dirt yesterday—the steam-clean chemicals are powerful—so the few strands of hair curling from my scalp aren’t as white-blond as before, more golden. The blue in my eyes has turned almost gray, a murky color that stretches over the pupil of each eye, as well as the iris. When I smile at myself, the smile looks like the smile I’ve seen on other mindless citizens: so big, it looks fake. I look like a shell of my real self, and that’s what I am.

But there’s something real inside me still, something that wasn’t created by the serum in my bloodstream. A part of my brain that influences my actions, even when it feels like someone else is controlling my hands. That’s the reason I almost shot Skylar last night—I can’t deny it. Charlie didn’t tell me to shoot her; he told me to follow my instincts. My instincts didn’t come from an injection; they came from my anger about Skylar’s betrayal.

I use the steam-clean to wash my hair and face and neck. The cleaning chemicals wash out most of the remaining bleach in my curls, bringing more red out. The red makes me look more like myself in the mirror, but I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

Back in the main bedroom, I pull my outfit out of the clothing slot in the wall. It’s the same gray uniform as yesterday, freshly washed, but today there are accessories with it: a black padded vest, a thick belt with a gun holster, and a pair of protective gloves. This is an outfit for a soldier being sent on a war mission.

That’s where I’m headed today: a war mission, against the wrong enemy.

My hands don’t falter as I pull on the uniform, snapping on the vest and slipping on my knee-high boots. Other Me has calmed down, but beneath her exterior I am not calm at all.

The time on the band around my wrist says it’s nine thirty. I have one hour and forty minutes until I’m supposed to meet Charlie in the health ward. One hour and forty minutes to fight the serum enough that it wears off, so I can refuse the other injection. I can still regain control.

But
how
?

My legs make me walk to the hovering tray beside my bed, where I set the second syringe yesterday. I pick it up and turn it over in my hand, staring at the silver liquid inside. Almost hesitating, but that can’t be it. Other Me wouldn’t hesitate.

What would make her hesitate?

Logan’s face drifts into my head, the way it looked when I held the gas mask over his mouth and nose. His watery eyes were devoid of hope. I have to see him before I leave for the KIMO facility. If things don’t go well up there, I might not come back. And I have a feeling things will be different, if I do. I might’ve hurt people; I might’ve done things I swore I would never do. Even trapped inside this body, I will feel guilty if I hurt anyone.

My hand tucks the syringe inside a small zipped pouch on the left side of my holster belt. I turn away and walk to the door. I beg my feet to take me to someone who knows where Charlie is keeping Logan.

Other Me loves him too. Surely she doesn’t want to leave without saying good-bye.

*   *   *

First, she takes me to the cafeteria. I am hungry, but I’m worried I’ll get stuck at one of the tables for a long time. That lieutenant who escorted me here from Crust, Dean, is sitting nearby, and he already noticed me come in. The look on his face makes me think he might ask me to join him and his uniformed friends.

Thankfully, Other Me seems like she’s on my side for once. I leave the cafeteria without sitting down, a breakfast bar sprinkled with sweet seeds in my hands. My feet carry me to an elevator, and when it arrives, my finger presses the button for Restricted Division, near Cell Block A. I don’t know exactly where Logan is, but Charlie said he’d put him in a cell, so he must be in Block A or B, which I passed on my way to A with Charlie last night.

There aren’t many holding cells in the Core; most Core prisoners are branded Unstable and sent to Karum. Now that Karum is silent and the Surface may soon be under attack, execution seems a likelier sentence for everyone Charlie can’t figure out how to control.

The elevator door slides open when I reach Restricted Division. I walk out into the corridor, swallowing the last bite of the sweet bar, and turn two corners before I reach Block A.

There’s a guard outside the main door—the same guard who let us into Skylar’s cell last night. He stiffens and sets a hand on the weapon in his holster as I approach.

“This is a restricted area,” he says.

“I’m allowed here,” I say.

Suspicion touches his eyes, but finally recognition sinks in. Still, he doesn’t move his hand from the barrel of his weapon.

“Are you looking for someone?” he asks in a gruff voice.

“I need help finding a prisoner. His name is Logan.”

“Why do you need to find him?”

“Commander Charlie said I’m allowed to visit him, and I’m shipping out on a mission today. I want to say good-bye. Please,” I add.

He sighs and removes his hand from his weapon.

“Fine,” he says. “Just this once. Follow me.”

He unlocks the door behind him. I give him a grateful smile.

He leads me down the cell block, past Skylar’s cell to the end of the corridor. I can’t believe Logan was so close when I visited her last night, and I didn’t realize. I didn’t even think of him.

Part of me is glad I didn’t see him, though. He would’ve seen me too, maybe when I was about to shoot Skylar. He would’ve thought I was a monster.

The guard unlocks the last door and opens it. He glances toward the opposite end of the corridor.

“Make it quick,” he says. “I’ll be back to get you soon.”

“I will. Thank you,” I say, stepping through the doorway.

Logan’s cell isn’t what I expected. It’s small and mostly bare, but it has a cot with a real mattress and a toilet in the corner. He’s sitting on the bed reading on a tablet.

I’m amazed Charlie let him have all of this. He kept his promise; Logan isn’t in a transport on his way to the Surface. There’s no longer a Stryker inside him. I shouldn’t want to thank Charlie for anything, but I want to thank him for this.

When Logan notices me, he sets the tablet aside quickly and stands, surprised. “Clementine.”

“That’s me,” I say.

He’s wearing the same clothes as the last time I saw him, but his face and hair look like they’ve been washed. He looks awake, aware, anxious.

“Are you—?” He takes a step toward me, but hesitates, his eyes searching my expression. There’s too much eagerness in his, though he’s trying not to show it. “Are you okay?”

Are you subdued?
That must be what he means. He thinks I’m not anymore, or I’m just pretending to be. He thinks that’s the only reason I would come to visit him.

“I’m perfect,” says Other Me with a smile. It feels so fake. “You’re safe, so I’m happy.”

It’s not completely a lie, but it’s not at all what I want to say.

Logan falters. Distrust replaces the eagerness in his eyes. He turns his head away, maybe so I won’t see it.

“I’m glad you’re perfect,” he says, and his voice is stiff, almost breaking. He was too hopeful I would’ve broken free by now; he thought I was stronger than I really am.

There are words on the tip of my tongue—
I’m still here, Logan, but I need your help. I’m trapped and I can’t get out.
But when I try to force them out, they become like raindrops I can never grasp, though they fall on me and will drown me if they don’t stop.

I can’t say what I want to say. All I can do is stand here staring at him until Other Me decides to move her lips or feet or hands.

Other Me takes a small step forward. “They’re sending me on a mission today,” she lets me say. “That’s why I came. I wanted to say good-bye.”

Logan’s head snaps back to me. “What? Where are you going?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you,” I say. “The mission is classified.”

He groans in frustration. “You can’t give me anything more than that?”

“I won’t be gone long. I’ll visit you again when I come back.”

“
If
you come back,” he says.

“I will.”

“Can you promise me?”

My lips don’t say anything at first. Then a single word escapes: “No.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“But you don’t have to worry,” I say, taking two steps closer to him. “Commander Charlie saved you, and he’ll save me too. We have to trust him.”

I reach out my hand and brush his cheek. I’m grateful he doesn’t flinch away; it feels good to touch him.

“You really believe that?” Logan says in a soft, bitter voice.

I slip my arms around his neck. “Yes.”

“It’s the injection talking.”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes are locked on mine, though there’s hesitance in his. Other Me doesn’t seem to care; I rise onto my tiptoes and pull him down a little, until his lips are mere centimeters from mine.

I can feel him struggling with himself, deciding whether or not this is right.

Thank the stars, he gives in. He kisses me, and everything else falls away. There’s nothing but his lips and mine, and the energy coursing between them.

It’s me,
I tell him over and over with my lips.
I’m still here.

He pulls away too fast. Not yet, please. I want him back, and so does Other Me. But when I lean into him again, he lets go of me and moves back, all the way to the wall.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t. You’re not her.”

I stare at him, my lips unmoving. Anger trickles into my veins, soft at first, then crushing me.
Why can’t I make him see?
The serum should be wearing off by now, not overpowering me so much. Seeing him again, being with him was supposed to snap me out of this. But it didn’t work; I’m still not free.

I’m sorry too,
I want to tell him. I’m sorry I did this to myself. But it was my only option, the only way to keep Charlie from sending him to the Surface to die.

I would give myself the serum again, a hundred times, to save Logan.

Other Me still hasn’t spoken, I realize. She’s at a loss for words for once, like me.

Logan is still watching me, his expression somewhere between anger and guilt. He rubs his temple with his thumb and forefinger, then slowly closes the space between us.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time. Setting his hands on my shoulders, he leans forward and presses his lips against my forehead. Tenderly. This time he doesn’t pull away.

Can’t we stay like this forever?

Right on cue, I hear the sound of the cell door unlocking behind me.

Logan steps back, keeping his hands on my shoulders. His eyes plead with me.

“I know you can fight this,” he whispers. “Come back to me, Clem.”

“Let’s go,” the guard says.

I pull away from Logan, but I look back at him on my way out. Though I can’t bring my mouth to say anything, I hope he sees the answer in my eyes:
I’ll try.

28

At exactly ten minutes to eleven, I enter room fourteen in the health ward.

My stomach is full of nerves. I hope the fear isn’t in my expression. I don’t want Charlie to know I’m aware of everything that’s happening until I’m in control again and I can strangle him for all of this, though I’m worried he’s already guessed I’m aware after what happened with Skylar.

The room is similar to other Core exam rooms, with a cot on the right-hand side and a sink, counter, and cabinets on the left. The lights are dim and blue, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the two men standing in here, speaking in low voices. Commander Charlie and Lieutenant Dean.

I stiffen. The lieutenant must be here in case something goes wrong, in case Charlie needs someone to hold me down while the nurse gives me my injection. These are the two who forced me into my cage. They both want to be sure I remain inside it.