We huddle in the darkest corner, where we can barely even see each other. I stare at the shafts of light coming through the vents. They slice the dirt floor into pieces, and I can just make out the crumpled sea daisies. The medic truck’s sirens sound distant for a moment—they’re making a turn somewhere—and then all of a sudden, they’re deafening. Heavy boots follow in their wake.
Damn trots. They’ve stopped outside our home and are getting ready to force their way in.
“Stay here,” I whisper. I twist my hair up over my head and then stuff it back inside my cap. “I’m going to throw them off.”
“No.” It’s John’s voice. “Don’t go back out there. It’s too dangerous.”
I shake my head. “It’s too dangerous for you if I stay. Trust me.” My eyes flick to Mom, who’s working hard to keep her own fear in check while telling Eden a story. I remember how calm she had always seemed when I was little, with her soothing voice and gentle smile. I nod at John. “I’ll be right back.”
Overhead I hear someone bang on our door. “Plague patrol,” a voice calls out. “Open up!”
I dart over to the loose board, carefully pull it aside a couple of feet, and then squeeze my way out. I slide it carefully back into place. Our house’s fence shields me from view, but through the cracks I can see the soldiers waiting outside the door. I have to act quickly. They won’t be expecting someone to fight back right now, especially someone they can’t see. I hurry silently to the back of our house, get a good foothold on a loose brick, and fling myself upward. I grab the edge of our roof, then swing up onto it.
The soldiers can’t see me up here, with our wide chimney and the shadows cast by the taller buildings around us. But I have a good view of them. In fact, the view makes me pause. Something’s wrong here. We have at least a slim chance against one plague patrol. But there are far more than a dozen soldiers in front of our house. I count at least twenty, maybe more, all with white masks tied tightly around their mouths. Some have full gas masks on. Two military jeeps are parked next to the medic truck. In front of one, a high-ranking official with red tassels and a commander’s hat stands waiting. Next to her is a dark-haired young man in a captain’s uniform.
And standing in front of him, unmoving and unprotected, is the Girl.
I frown, confused. They must have arrested her—and now they’re using her for something. That means they must’ve caught Tess too. I search the crowd, but Tess is nowhere to be seen. I turn back to the Girl. She seems calm, unfazed by the sea of soldiers surrounding her. She tightens her own mask around her mouth.
And then, in an instant, I realize why the Girl had looked so familiar. Her eyes. Those dark, gold-flecked eyes. The young captain named Metias. The one I’d escaped from on the night I raided the Los Angeles Central Hospital. He had the exact same eyes.
Metias must be her relative. Just like him, she works for the military. I can’t believe my stupidity. I should have seen this earlier. I quickly scan the faces of the other soldiers, wondering if Metias himself is here as well. But I just see the Girl.
They’ve sent her to hunt me down.
And now, because of my idiocy, she has tracked me right to my family. She may have even killed Tess. I close my eyes—I’d trusted this girl, had been duped into kissing her. Even falling for her. The thought makes me blind with rage.
A loud crash rings out from our house. I hear shouts, then screams. The soldiers have found them—they’ve broken through the floorboards and dug them out.
Then two soldiers with gas masks emerge from behind the house, dragging my mother between them. Following close behind are soldiers restraining John, who shouts at them to leave our mother alone. A pair of medics come out last. They’ve strapped Eden to a gurney and are wheeling him toward the medic truck.
I have to do something. From my pocket, I pull the three silver bullets Tess had given me, the three bullets from my hospital break-in. I fit one of them into my makeshift slingshot. A memory of my seven-year-old self launching the flaming snowball into the police headquarters flickers through my mind. Then I point the slingshot at one of the soldiers holding John, pull back as far as I can, and fire.
It scrapes his neck so hard that I see blood spray from the impact. The soldier crumples, clutching frantically at his mask. Instantly other soldiers point their guns up toward the roof. I’m crouched, motionless, behind the chimney.
The Girl steps forward. “Day.” Her voice echoes down the street. I must be delirious because I think I hear sympathy in her voice. “I know you’re here, and I know why.” She points toward John and my mother. Eden has already disappeared inside the medic truck.
Now my mother knows I’m the criminal she sees on all the JumboTron warnings. But I say nothing. I fit another bullet to my slingshot and point it in the Girl’s direction.
“You want your family to be safe. I understand that,” she continues. “I wanted my family to be safe too.”
I pull back my arm.
The Girl’s voice becomes more pleading, even urgent. “Now I’m giving you a chance to save yours. Turn yourself in. Please. No one will get hurt.”
One of the soldiers standing near her lifts his gun higher. On instinct, I swing the slingshot toward him and fire. It hits him right in the knee and sends him tumbling forward.
The soldiers fire a volley of bullets at me. I huddle behind the chimney. Sparks fly. I grit my teeth and close my eyes—I can do nothing in this situation. I’m helpless.
Once the gunfire stops, I look out from the chimney and see the Girl still standing there. Her commander crosses her arms. The Girl doesn’t flinch.
Then I see the commander step forward. When the Girl starts to protest, she pushes her aside. “You can’t stay there forever,” the commander shouts up at me. Her voice is much colder than the Girl’s. “And I know you won’t leave your family to die.”
I fit the last bullet into my slingshot and point it straight at her.
The commander shakes her head at my silence. “Okay, Iparis,” she says to the Girl. “We’ve tried your tactic.
