One of the tricks up Tovar’s sleeve turned out to be uniforms: dozens of Defense Grid uniforms stolen from the depot they’d raided in the old East Meadow High School. “We stole a mountain of ammunition and trail rations, too,” he said slyly, “just to make it look like we were after their supplies, but this was the real prize. Worth a thousand bullets each if you use them right.” Kira nodded and shrugged one on over her normal clothes.

The living room, already cramped, was now packed with an assortment of Voice leaders. Kira studied them as they talked, poring over makeshift maps of the island; they were determined, at the very least, and appeared capable enough, but they lacked the smoothness she had seen with the Defense Grid. The Grid was better organized, even for something as simple as a salvage run. One person laid out the plan, while the others listened attentively. The Voice could not have been more different.

“This is Farad,” said Tovar, pointing to a stern man with a fiery shock of red hair. “The uniforms are nice, but he’s our real secret weapon: a Grid soldier, so newly defected to our cause that the Grid leaders, we hope, don’t even know he’s left.”

Farad glanced around the room nervously, visibly uncomfortable in a room full of people who were so recently his enemies. “I tried to hang on after the riot,” he said softly, “and the new rules, but . . . I just can’t anymore. They’ve taken this too far.”

“Farad was a driver,” Tovar continued, “and it just so happens that we’ve recently, ah, liberated a jeep from a Grid outrider.” He turned to Kira. “Probably one of the same ones that tried to chase you down after the riot. It’s in good condition, has a covered back with the official Grid logo, and Farad knows the passwords to get it through the border.”

“He knew the passwords,” said a large man by the wall; he was old, with gray hair and a beard, but his arms were thickly muscled. “They might have changed them—they will have changed them if they’re smart.”

“But they don’t know I’ve left,” said Farad. His voice was thin and cracking. “I mean, they can’t know, right? Not this quickly?”

“As far as they know you’re still on a scouting mission,” said Gianna. “Of course, if you run into anyone who knows you’re supposed to be on a scouting mission, it won’t matter how many passwords you have.”

“Even in these uniforms they’re going to recognize us,” said Jayden. “Kira and Marcus at the very least once we get to the hospital—everyone there knows them.”

“And they’re the ones who know the hospital,” said Tovar. “None of us do, at least not well enough. Here’s the plan: Farad drives you back and gets you through the border, while the more notorious members of your band stay in the back and keep your eyes down. It’s risky, but if you’re careful you can make it work. You drive to the hospital, to that rear service door you were telling me about.”

“The same one we slipped out of the night of the riot,” said Kira. “There’s a big ramp leading down to it, which will make us hard to see—any guard around the building will know we’re there, obviously, but they won’t have a good look at anyone who gets in or out of the jeep.”

Tovar nodded. “Make your way through the lower levels, up to maternity, and grab your friend. This is the trickiest part.”

“Which is why I’m going,” said Gianna. “Once you guide us through the back hallways, I can get in and out of maternity without raising eyebrows—nobody knows me, and with this uniform I’ll look official.”

“You hope,” said the bearded man.

“Seriously, Rowan,” said Tovar, “is this really the time? Do we have to argue with every little step of the plan?”

“Your so-called plan is just ‘good luck and don’t act suspicious,’” said the bearded man. “You’re sending them into the heart of enemy territory, I’d like to think you’d have something a little more workable.”

“I don’t even want them to go,” said Tovar, throwing up his hands. “I’m trying to plan a full-scale assault of this city, and this is the best I could come up with given my time and resources.”

The bearded Rowan turned to Gianna. “Are you willing to risk your life for ‘the best he could come up with’?”

“We’re willing to risk it for this,” said Kira, and held up the syringe. “This is not an abstract concept, this is an actual cure—an actual injection that will save a child’s life. Can you even imagine that? A living, breathing child that lives for a week, a month, a year; a child that laughs and crawls and learns to talk.” Her voice cracked. “I would die for that in a heartbeat.”

The room was silent.

Rowan stirred first. “Being worth the risk doesn’t justify a risky plan.”

“This plan will work,” said Tovar fervently. “Farad has the codes, and our informants in the city have fed us the full rundown of hospital security. We can get them in, and we can get Madison Sato out. We’ll take her to the eastern farms, she can deliver there, and the baby will live.”

“I’m going to split the cure into three separate doses,” said Kira. “One stays with Tovar, here in the back lines, to be used on Madison’s baby Arwen. The second goes with us, just in case Arwen has already been born; depending on how advanced the virus is, we have to inject her on-site.”

Tovar pointed at Rowan. “The third goes with you, east to Flanders or Riverhead or somewhere the Grid presence is weakest. Inject every newborn you can find.” He looked at the syringe in Kira’s hands. “The cure is too important to risk on a single mission.”

Kira nodded, but a niggling voice in the back of her mind posed the question: Do I have the pheromone? If I’m really a Partial, can I cure RM too? She almost didn’t dare to consider it—didn’t dare to hope—it would be too easy, and nothing so far had been easy. As soon as I get the chance—as soon as I have the right equipment—I have to test myself.

Gianna whispered reverently. “We’re pinning an awful lot of hope on this.”

“I know,” said Kira.

“So that’s the team,” said Rowan, “Gianna, the new guy, and these two medics.”

“And us,” said Jayden. “Madison’s my sister.”

Xochi nodded. “And Kira’s mine.”

Kira felt a pang of conscience, as stark as if she’d willfully betrayed them all. What would they do if they knew what I really am?

The car died two miles northeast of East Meadow. Gianna and Farad spent nearly an hour under the hood, cursing and banging and trying to get it started; Kira and Marcus sat by the curb and planned their route through the hospital: where to go, how to get there, and what specific medical phrases to teach Gianna to help get Madison out of the nurses’ sight. Kira had kept the syringe in her own gear, carefully wrapped and cushioned and strapped to her waist. She touched it reflexively, making sure it was safe. Farad walked over tiredly and dropped a chunk of oily black metal on the road beside her.

Marcus looked at it. “Bad gas?”

“The gas is the cleanest I’ve seen in a while,” said Farad. “This is the starter—it’s not cracked or bent or gummed up, it’s just . . . old.” He flopped down on the curb beside them. “Of all the things that could have gone wrong, I never would have guessed this.”

“But you can still get us in,” said Kira, “right?”

“I could get me in,” said Farad, shaking his head. “You’re too famous, and without the jeep to hide in I just don’t see it working. And even if I could get in, one guy wandering home alone is going to raise a lot more eyebrows than a full squad with a vehicle. I’d certainly be questioned, probably detained, and in any case would never be able to get to your friend in time. I definitely couldn’t get her out.”

“Let’s look at our options,” said Jayden. “We can’t just give up, and we don’t have time to go back.”

“We could find another Grid patrol and steal their jeep,” said Xochi.

“I meant realistic options.”

“We could probably get one of these other cars running,” said Gianna, but Farad shook his head.

“They’ll know the difference between a fleet vehicle and a salvage,” he said. “With enough time and the right equipment, maybe, but we have to do this now if we want to stop Tovar from a frontal assault. He hasn’t given us much leeway.”

“We’ll have to cross on foot,” said Kira. “That’s never been hard before—the border’s too big to patrol the entire thing.”

“East Meadow’s never been under martial lockdown before,” said Gianna. “We have informers on the inside, and we’ve scouted the perimeter. It’s as tight as a drum.”

Kira looked at the sky, guessing at the time of day—late afternoon. “We’ll try to slip through in the dark. Does your radio pick up the Grid channels?”

“Of course,” said Gianna, “just like their radios pick up ours. Anything important will be in code.”

“And I don’t know them all,” said Farad.

“Then we’ll have to make do,” said Kira, standing up. “Let’s find a weak spot in the border.”

They struck south on what a battered street sign eventually identified as Walt Whitman Road. They passed a long shopping mall on one side, and a few hours later a deeply wooded park on the other. Once, across a wide parking lot, they saw a group of Grid soldiers investigating a tall, shattered-glass office building. The soldiers waved and shouted a greeting, the noise echoing emptily across the expanse, and Farad waved and shouted back. The soldiers turned and went back to their work. Kira kept a steady pace until they got out of view, then hurried the group along to put as much distance between them as she could. They saw more border patrols as they drew closer to the eastern edge of the city, security getting tighter and tighter, until finally they saw in the distance a road completely blocked by cars—more than just the detritus of eleven-year-old traffic, these cars had been hauled into place and braced with sheets of wood and metal. Kira shook her head, muttering lowly.

“They’ve barricaded the city.”