I awoke in an unfamiliar spot.
A rocky hollow, high among the southern cliffs, near the canyon rim and its two-hundred-foot drop into river country. An icy wind knifed through a ring of boulders surrounding me, chilling my nose and ears. I was wet and exposed, storm clouds close enough to touch.
Ethan’s spot. I’d never seen it before.
For some reason I’d expected the eastern field, or maybe I’d just been hoping. The reset points truly were random now. A pattern would’ve been helpful, but what about the Program had been so far?
Dead again. Three times since being uploaded. Twice in the last forty-eight hours. No matter what I tried, nothing seemed to work. My failures were piling up, and I’d come no closer to learning anything about the Program.
I choked back hot tears of frustration. The rain had stopped, but the thin grass was soaked and my butt was getting there. I stood, abruptly realized my head was pounding. My nose was a snotty mess, and I wiped it absently, felt heat radiating from my cheeks.
This was new. I’d never come back with physical discomforts before.
Dying hurt, certainly. Getting shot, or crushed, or drowning in a flash flood—those things felt as excruciating as you’d expect. But once it was over . . . it was over. You reset back to normal and everything was fine. So what was happening now?
I coughed into a fist, thrown by the change. Took stock. My limbs felt weak and rubbery. My stomach roiled. I brushed stray twigs from my hair, then ran both hands over my body. No injuries. My jeans and shoes were intact. I still had on my ski jacket, but with a twinge of panic I realized the gun was gone.
Huh.
Did it disappear, or had I dropped it? Was it lying on the road where I’d been shot? I’d never died holding a weapon before, so this was uncharted territory.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus. I knew that somewhere else in the valley, Tack was doing the same things. Toby had gotten the drop on us and we hadn’t stood a chance.
The sun was a hazy blur behind the clouds, lower than when we’d reached the summer camp. I’d been gone for a couple of hours at least, maybe more. I was cold and wet and alone, surrounded by leering stone sentinels that seemed to mock me. This reset zone had an unfriendly vibe. All at once, I wanted out of Ethan’s old territory.
I took a shaky step, dizzier than I’d thought. My knee banged against a knob of solid rock and a hiss escaped my lips. I stumbled back against a pillar, holding my leg and swearing with impressive foulness.
A memory flashed in my mind—Mom’s hands, gently applying a Dora the Explorer Band-Aid to my skinned knee, the two of us tucked away safe in our little trailer as a thunderstorm raged outside.
My shoulders heaved. Tears streaked down my face as a strangled sob escaped.
I was tired. So tired of the cycle. Tired of waking up outside with no one to comfort me. Tired of struggling against things I didn’t understand.
The sky rumbled overhead with the threat of more rain, or a flurry if the temperature continued to drop. My hands balled into fists, fingernails digging into palms. I didn’t have time for this. My mother was dead. There was no warm, safe place for me to hide.
A storm was coming. I needed to get down the mountain before the lightning struck.
I swatted tears from my checks. Shook out my limbs. I’d told Tack to head directly for the silo if we were separated, so that’s what I’d do. Spotting what appeared to be an old deer run, I began zigzagging downslope, careful not to step on any of the loose pebbles littering the mountainside. I was only a few miles from where I’d been gunned down, and didn’t want to attract attention. The lack of birdcalls was unnerving, though I’d grown used to silent forests.
I rounded a switchback, spotted a pitted granite pillar ahead that reared ten feet and overhung the path. I slowed, stopped. Something about it made me anxious. I looked left, then right. Jagged rocks on both sides funneled the trail directly past the pillar, which perfectly concealed the next bend.
My instincts hummed in warning. I didn’t want to go that way.
I turned to a boulder on my right—weathered and creased, it was riddled with easy handholds. I decided to climb it, pulling myself halfway up in one go, then reaching for the top and hauling my body to where I could stand. From this vantage point I saw that the rest of the boulder field dropped twenty yards straight down the mountainside to where the path swung back around below it.
Shortcut, but a tricky one. Why not use the trail? Was I being paranoid?
Safety first, right? Hands extended, I began walking across the uneven rocky points, ready to leap backward if any proved unstable. By the third boulder I was able to see around the pillar that stood beside the path.
Derrick Morris was crouched behind it, gripping a burlap sack.
For a moment I just blinked. It was comical. Why was Derrick lurking in the shadows with a bag in his hands, like a hungry troll stalking hobbits?
Eyes glued to his back, I hopped to the next boulder, craning my neck to see if he was alone. I didn’t spot anyone else, but the trail was crisscrossed with pools of darkness. I inched forward, eyes straining, praying Derrick wouldn’t feel my gaze digging into his back. Was Ethan here? Why were they guarding the path?
The rock beneath my feet slumped left.
I toppled sideways with a silent curse, slamming against the next boulder and falling gracelessly between them. Then I slid headlong down a short scree slope, coming to a halt in an abraded tangle of arms, legs, and bruised ego. I’d felt an icy tingle as I plummeted, and knew I’d crossed through the reset zone boundary.
I’d tumbled nearly all the way to the lower section of trail. Scrambling to my feet, I turned to run, but Spence Coleman and Leighton Huddle were standing ten feet away, gaping at me like I’d fallen from a spaceship.
Derrick appeared around the bend. “Grab her, you idiots!”
There was nowhere to run. Spence reached for my shoulder and caught a fist in his teeth for his trouble. He howled, staggering backward, but Leighton grabbed my forearm and wouldn’t let go. Then something rancid and slimy slammed over my head, smothering me.
I toppled to the ground with a garbled shout. Felt a heavy weight press down on me as my arms were wrenched behind my back. Someone was tying my hands. The whole thing felt like a Bugs Bunny cartoon.
“What the hell!?” I snarled, panicking, choking inside the filthy bag. I jabbed my elbow backward and was rewarded by a yowl of pain.
“We’ve got a live one!” someone joked. Leighton, I think. I could hear Spence spitting and cursing somewhere close by. Then I was yanked roughly to my feet.
“You gonna calm down, Melinda?” Derrick’s voice boomed through the itchy burlap. “That can stay on, you know. You look great.”
I seethed like a cauldron, but quit struggling. Moments later the bag was removed.
Derrick was facing me, looking pleased with himself. He was tall and lean, dark skinned, with a short, tight Afro and gleaming white teeth. “Oh man! Ethan is gonna be stoked. You’re at the top of his wish list.”
I glared a hole through his forehead. “Damn it, Derrick. Let me go!”
“Now why would I do that?” Derrick turned to his companions. “Y’all take Melinda over to the jail, then run tell Ethan who we bagged.”
As I listened to Spence and Leighton grumble, the strategic situation snapped into focus. Ethan must’ve set up ambushes at all four reset points.
Heat rose to my face. The raid on the summer camp? Not so pointless after all. Toby and his team weren’t randomly killing people. They were herding. Funneling holdouts through the reset points so they could be taken prisoner.
The scheme was . . . brilliant. It had Sarah’s fingerprints all over it.
“Why do we have to go?” Leighton whined. “I just got out here, and haven’t even eaten lunch yet. Plus, Spence already went into town once this morning.”
Derrick smiled, clicked his tongue. “Because I’m in charge, not you. That’s how it rolls, kid. Downhill. You’re not class president here in Ethanland.”
Leighton’s pale blue eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, there was a disturbance up the path. Derrick clamped a hand over my mouth.
Tack is coming. Do something!
But my hands were literally tied and Derrick was twice my size. I tried yelling into his palm, but only a wheeze escaped.
“Hush now,” Derrick whispered, dragging me behind a boulder and motioning Spence and Leighton into ambush position. “We’ve got another customer.”
A shadowy figure appeared on the trail above, but the person stopped and called out before crossing the reset boundary. “It’s Toby, you jackasses. Don’t touch me or I’ll slug you. I’m not in the mood.”
Derrick released me and stepped into view, a smile appearing like magic. “Who gotcha, champ? One of those soccer girls?”
Toby trudged down the path, looking sheepish as he rubbed his shaved head. Short and squat, he resembled a fairy-tale gnome escaped from some old lady’s garden. Toby had made the worst grades in school, but he’d always possessed a base cunning. Since the fighting started, I thought he might be the most dangerous kid in Fire Lake.
“Naw, I don’t think those chicks are with Corbin.” Toby glanced at me with a lopsided grin, though it didn’t sync with his watery eyes. “I got Min and Thumbtack easy enough, but the little bastard got a lucky shot off before fading out. Sumbitch hit me right in the neck. I’m gonna pound him into the ground when I see him.”
My heart sank. Tack was resetting, too. Walking into a similar trap.
Toby put a hand on my shoulder, squeezed it in a friendly manner. “Hey, Min. Were you two crashing at Starlight’s Edge the whole time? I was sure you guys were hiding in the trailers, but we never spotted you. I might owe Charlie a condo.”
His touch burned like acid. I shrugged his hand away. “Screw you, Toby.”
“You offering?” He turned to Derrick before I could spit back a heated denial. “I’ll walk her in. Lost my AR-15 on the raid, damnit. That one stings—I loved that piece. Gotta hit the armory before I head back out.”
“Cool.” Derrick glanced at Spence and Leighton, who were bumping fists at having avoided the trek. “Don’t celebrate too hard—we’re still stuck out here another hour. Now y’all get back in position. That firefight at the camp might keep us busy.”
Toby reached for me, but I stepped in front of Derrick before he could lope away. “Why are you doing this? When’d you become Ethan’s errand boy? Or a mass murderer?”
Derrick’s shoulders bristled, but when he spoke, his voice was calm. “I’m nobody’s errand boy. I just like being on the winning team. And stop it with that ‘mass murderer’ nonsense. Are you dead? Is Toby?”
I looked away. Toby waggled his fingers at me in a silly wave.
“It’s just a game, Min. Can’t you see that?” Derrick gathered my elbow and, not ungently, started me along the path. He and Toby exchanged five as I began picking my way downhill.
“Nobody’s getting hurt,” Derrick called after me. “Everybody comes back. Me? I prefer to eat well. If Ethan wants to set up water usage committees and count batteries, that’s all right.” He chuckled. “I’m sleeping in a penthouse.”
“Come on, Min.” Toby had caught up, put a hand to the small of my back. He left it there for a few paces, then ran his fingers up and over my bra strap, making my skin crawl.
“Watch it,” I warned.
Toby giggled, removed his hand. “Just trying to help, Wilder. Wouldn’t want you to face-plant with your hands tied.”
I ground my teeth. Refused to respond.
As we followed the trail down to the valley floor, Derrick’s words gnawed at me. A voice in my head worried he was right. Why was I so opposed to Ethan and Sarah being in charge? Those two had run Fire Lake High School like dictators before all this happened anyway. So why did it bother me so much now? Was it pride? Jealousy? Should I just fall in line, and leave it alone? Derrick’s voice echoed in my eardrums. Everybody comes back.
A vision of Ethan stabbing Tack flashbulbed inside my head.
Ethan hadn’t known about the resets then. He’d thought he was actually killing Tack—murdering my best friend in front of everyone. That’s why. Ethan’s psychotic, and Sarah makes him smart. Whatever this game was, those two couldn’t be allowed to control it.
Not that I wanted the job. Tack might think I’d be a good leader, but he was the only one. People who ignored me in high school weren’t suddenly going to listen now. Being a beta didn’t change facts on the ground.
What was a beta anyway? A prized lab rat, and nothing more. The project could’ve picked anyone to run their initial experiments on. They chose me because of a fluke of my birthday, a trailer-trash nobody who wouldn’t be missed if things went wrong. Someone no one would believe.
Overworked mom. No dad. Disposable. Replaceable. Disappearable.
Leader? I was practically a ghost. I’d never liked being out front. Never wanted the spotlight. Even the idea of trying to solve this mess made me shudder. No thanks. Being completely honest, I didn’t like most of these people anyway.
We reached level ground. Toby guided me west around the lake, reversing the route Tack and I had taken hours before. We passed the waterfront neighborhoods and fairgrounds, rejoining the highway where it became Main Street as it headed into town. The whole trip, we didn’t encounter a soul.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Toby was pacing along, pulling bark off a stick, a little boy on a nature walk without a care in the world. He had a pistol tucked into his waistband— commandeered from an annoyed Leighton as we left—but he didn’t seem worried about any possible attack. “You look kinda pale, too.”
“Sorry. Being shot to death makes me terrible company.” I didn’t want to admit that my head was throbbing, or that I was tiring quickly from the long hike. It felt like I was coming down with something, but could you really get sick inside the Program? There were no animals here, but did pathogens exist? That seemed illogical, but what did I know.
I’ve got a computer virus. Ha ha.
Still, it was troubling enough that I decided to probe what Toby knew. “I’m actually not feeling very well. I might have a fever. Has anyone else mentioned being sick?”
Toby gave me a strange look, perhaps surprised I’d responded. “Not that I’ve heard.” Then he smirked. “Honestly, I’ve never felt better. I hardly even have to sleep anymore. This place is great. No one’s around to tell us what to do, we can’t die, and I get to shoot people.” He waved a hand extravagantly as we passed the deserted marina and its cluster of empty restaurants and shops. “If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.”
“You’re sick.”
“No, but you seem to be. I’m in the best shape of my life.”
I didn’t reply. Didn’t want to talk to him ever again. Toby was one of those kids, the ones who relished the total freedom. He preferred living inside a circuit board.
Like Noah.
My throat clenched. My hands flexed against their bonds, increasing my frustration. Why did I feel the need to rehash this so often? I was sick of agonizing over Noah. Wondering how he could bring himself to do it. Feeling miserable he’d chosen the Program over me. It was worthless. Done was done.
Noah had made his choice. So why was I having such a hard time moving on?
Because you know he didn’t mean it.
I stumbled, nearly fell.
“Watch your step,” Toby admonished, but I barely heard.
Is that what I believed?
My lips curdled.
Was I really that stupid?
I squeezed my eyelids shut, then snapped them open again. This was exactly the kind of distraction I couldn’t afford. We reached the first row of businesses and continued on toward town square. I knew where we were going—I’d been held there once before. And this time Noah wasn’t hiding in an alley, plotting to break me out.
Stop it. Stop thinking about him.
But my mind betrayed me. I remembered Noah vaulting the counter. Slugging Toby across the face. The desperation in his eyes as he looked for me. The softness of his hands as he reached through the jail cell bars.
I felt a tightness in my chest I couldn’t dispel. An emptiness in the pit of my stomach.
Suddenly Noah was all I could think about. His scent. The heat from his arms when he held me. The way his lips trembled when he was worried. The way he cupped my face when we kissed.
How scared he’d been that night in the trailer. How safe he’d made me feel.
For a moment, I missed him so badly I couldn’t breathe.
Then I cursed myself for being so pathetic. He. Shot. Me. Threw me away like garbage.
“Easy, killer.” Toby was eyeing me with a bemused expression, mistaking my emotional panic for fear. “Almost home.”
I sniffed, rubbed my cheek against my shirt. “Shut up, Toby.”
Entering the sheriff’s office, Toby marched me around the counter to the cells in the back hallway. Tucker Brincefield and Josh Atkins were on guard duty, a pair of red-faced meatheads who had anchored the football team’s offensive line. They’d gone over to Ethan and Sarah early, seduced by cushy spots on Toby’s goon squad. Both looked incredibly bored.
“Welcome back to your luxury suite, Melinda.” Toby lifted a key ring off its hook and unlocked the left-hand chamber. “You’ve got some company this time around.”
There were two cells divided by a line of unpainted steel bars. Both were stark and dreary, sharing the same naked concrete floor and white cinder-block rear wall. More exposed bars formed the other three sides of a long rectangle, allowing a view inside from all angles.
“Girls in this one.” Toby opened the door and bowed, sweeping his hand like a hotel valet. Tucker and Josh watched with satisfied smirks. I had no choice. I stepped inside.
Colleen Plummer rose from a bench and hurried toward Toby, stopping short at his sharp look. She had frizzy black hair and a frowning mouth.
“This is crazy, Toby.” Colleen’s voice was pleading, her red-rimmed eyes tinged with panic. “Just let me out now, okay?”
Toby shook his head like a disappointed father. “Can’t do it, CP. Hiding food is like our number one no-no. You’ve got two more days to go.”
Her simper morphed into a snarl, an index finger jabbing at Toby’s face. “My father owns the marina, you snotty little shit. Anything left inside it belongs to me, not Ethan, or Sarah, or you! Now let me out of here, right now, or . . . or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Toby leaned an elbow against the bars, seemed genuinely amused. “Do the crime, do the time. It’s not that hard, kids.”
Colleen actually stomped a foot, but Toby just giggled. Then he straightened, closed the door in her face, and strolled away down the hall, whistling tunelessly as he spun the key ring on his index finger. Colleen retreated to her seat and sat hard, seizing her hair in her hands as she unleashed a high-pitched screech. But when our eyes met, she sneered at me, before deliberately looking away.
We’d never been friends at school, and that clearly wasn’t going to change. Colleen might be a prisoner, but she still considered herself teen royalty in Fire Lake. She’d rather sulk alone than talk to me.
Sighing, I took a seat on the back bench. Rested my head against the cool concrete wall. I felt drained. Wrung out and overused, like an old dishrag dried to a hard shell.
Three other girls occupied the cell with Colleen and me. Fox-faced Susan Daughtridge hid behind a curtain of glossy black hair. She was popular and a cheerleader, but that clearly hadn’t saved her from Ethan’s kangaroo court. Cenisa Davis was short and prim, with big blue eyes and light brown skin. Beside her, Maggie Knudson was crying softly into her hands. There were boys in the other cell, but at the moment I was too tired to turn and look.
“Is she okay?” I asked, wriggling out of my winter coat. The bench was chilly and hard. The cell smelled like wet metal and cracked paint, felt antiseptic and grimy at the same time.
Cenisa shrugged. “Neither of us have been murdered before, so who knows.”
I tried to be sympathetic. “First reset?”
Cenisa nodded. “Maggie and I were picking berries on Miner’s Peak. Then that bastard Ferris showed up and blasted us with a shotgun like we weren’t even people.” Her bottom lip quivered, but no tears fell. “I knew things were bad, but . . . damn.”
I sat forward. Miner’s Peak bordered the trailer park. “Were you guys with Sam and Carl? What’s it like at the quarry? Tack and I tried—”
Cenisa lifted a hand, cutting me off, then rubbed it over her face. It was long moments before she spoke. “It’s a mess, Min. This whole world is a mess. And there’s no way out of it for anyone.” She sighed deeply, then reached over and pulled her weeping friend’s head into her lap, closing her eyes as she stroked Maggie’s pale red hair.
I opened my mouth to . . . what, I wasn’t sure. Protest? Sympathize? Buck her up?
In the end, I stayed silent.
I was trapped in the same cell she was. Who was I to argue?