Earthbound

when that will be. Don’t you call anyone. Especially Benson. You have to accept it; you can never have any contact with him ever again.”

Benson. I nod, hating the truth of it. It’s worse than him being dead. It might be worse than me being dead. Elizabeth hits a curb, throwing my head against the window. Distantly I feel pain, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

“Open my purse,” Elizabeth instructs. I look around at my feet and find the black bag that’s tumbling around. “Take my wallet.”

“But I have—”

“Take it, Tave!” she orders.

I unzip the leather bag and fumble around for the wallet, transferring it into my backpack.

“There’s some food—it’s not much, but you’ll need it.”

I sift around and find part of a candy bar and a large package of trail mix. Gratefully, I slide the trail mix into my backpack and stuff the entire piece of candy bar into my mouth to fight off the blackness that’s trying to close in around the edges of my sight.

Seconds of silence pass as my mind tries to take in what just happened.

As soon as I choke down the candy, I blurt, “I beat her.” They beat her. This time.

“Yes, you did.” Her words hold a softness and I hear thank you in them.

But it feels empty. I didn’t save Sammi and Mark.

I saved Benson instead.

And he betrayed me.

Elizabeth spares me a glance as she continues to drive erratically. “You did good.”

Not good enough. Marie’s still out there. She’s probably not even hurt. I got away, but I didn’t actually stop her.

“Quinn was there. I saw him,” I say, trying to push away my despair at still being on the run from this woman.

Elizabeth is silent, one lip pulled between her teeth.

“He warned me. How can he do that? He’s not real. I mean, every time I’ve seen him, he’s been an illusion, right? He’s not … . real.” My mind hasn’t stopped whirring since I saw him tonight—I don’t know how to justify it, what he did. “His soul isn’t here; it’s with Logan. It is Logan.”

Elizabeth spins around another corner with her eyes glued to the rearview. I’m completely lost. “The mind is an incredibly powerful thing, Tave. But it’s also very fragile. Your memory unlocking must have started when you saved yourself in the plane crash, but your brain was too damaged to survive such a drastic change. So when the memories couldn’t be held back any longer, your mind seems to have done something to protect itself. Created something to personify it; a comfortable person you could accept. Someone safe. A defense mechanism, if you will, to ease you into your full awakening without burning out your synapses.” She sweeps me the barest of glances. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“So he didn’t save me?” I ask quietly, not wishing he had exactly, but wanting someone to have been on my side.

Elizabeth turns and for just a second our eyes meet. “No,” she says, and she sounds very certain. “You saved yourself.”

“Elizabeth?” I hesitate. “Sammi was right, wasn’t she? The Reduciata actually want me so badly they sent their leader after me. For a secret I’m too damaged to even remember?”

She doesn’t look at me, but I see her swallow. “They want you bad, Tave. Something’s going wrong. I think they released the virus too soon. It’s affecting everything too strongly. The death time that’s too short to go unnoticed, the crazy weather that people are starting to realize can’t be natural,” she says, gesturing at the downpour that looks like it’s trying to turn into either hail or snow. “It’s all wrapped up in their screwup. They miscalculated, and now everything is spiraling out of their control and it’s only going to get worse.” She looks over at me. “They wanted you to die in the plane crash, but something about what you did … now they think you can fix their mistake before it destroys all of us—including them. That’s all we know.”

An oily fear coats my stomach. “They’ve got to be wrong. Elizabeth, I can’t help. I can’t do anything. I don’t remember whatever it is they think I do.”

Her eyes narrow. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years as a Curatoriate, it’s that the Reduciata are almost never wrong. Tavia, do not die. Somehow, you are humankind’s last hope. You need to figure out why, and then you need to stop them.”

I sink back against the seat and say nothing. I’ve never felt so small, so inadequate. If I’m humankind’s last hope, then humankind is doomed.

Elizabeth glances at the rearview again as we drive through a nearly dark section of town with half the streetlights burned out. Seedy-looking and more than a little scary. “I don’t know if I’ve lost them, but they’re at least far enough back that I can’t see them anymore. When I pull over, you jump out and hide. Wait for about thirty seconds so I can get away from you. Then run in that direction,” she says, pointing toward a shadowy alley sided by two lines of decrepit wood-slat fencing. “You’ll reach the bus station in less than two blocks. You can’t miss it—it’ll be all lit up.”

“Elizabeth?” I say desperately.

“What?”

I want to tell her that I’m not ready, that I don’t really understand how I saved myself on the plane or in the fire, and especially not from Marie. And I’m not convinced I can do it again.

Not alone.

Not without Benson.

No, don’t think about him.

“Thank you,” I finally whisper instead.

“Thank me if we live through this,” she says, so quietly that I don’t know if she intended for me to hear her. “Ready?”

I pull my backpack over my shoulder and unfasten my seat belt. My fingers are poised over the door handle as I choke out, “Ready.”

It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

The car screeches to a halt, and the second we stop moving, Elizabeth’s hands are pushing at my back and I’m wrenching the door open and almost tumbling out, staggering down to one knee as my shoe slides on the oily cement beneath my feet. The car’s already moving again. I’m bathed in dark shadows, but I force my knee straight and dive behind a Dumpster anyway, not daring to peer out to watch the taillights disappear. The icy rain soaks my face as I begin counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

At eighteen the earth beneath me trembles, the light of flames reaching my eyes before the slower sound waves echo in my ears.

An explosion.

It’s to the east.

The direction Elizabeth drove.

And it’s exactly the distance a speeding car would cover in eighteen seconds.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

No one could have survived an explosion like that.

Agony presses against my chest, pushing the air from my lungs, and for a few seconds I lose count. Lose