The scalpel dug into loathsome gray paint, gouging a new vertical line.
Then I turned the blade horizontal and bisected the grouping. Fifty-five marks. One for each day I’d been trapped.
I placed the scalpel on my bedside desk and sat heavily. The room I called home was a small square, modestly appointed, with blue carpeting and a simple bathroom attached. It stank of dust and disuse, even after the two months I’d been living there. The only light was a halogen bolted to the ceiling, which cast a glare so harsh, I usually kept it off, relying on the illumination leaking in from the hallway.
I drummed my knees. Then, with a heavy sigh, I stood, straightening the charcoal-gray jumpsuit I was wearing. I frowned down at the black starburst symbol stitched above my heart. There were a dozen more uniforms like this one in the room’s tiny closet. I’d been wearing them for weeks despite my revulsion for Project Nemesis. I might hate the manipulative bastards who’d repurposed this silo, but I really wasn’t into doing laundry.
“No point skipping work,” I muttered to my shoes.
Stepping out into the hallway, I strode past the kitchen, lounge, and game room, heading for the office suite. I’d already rehydrated and eaten a meal for this block of hours—day and night become hazy concepts when you never see the sun—and I was getting so good at pool it wasn’t fun anymore. So I shouldered through the middle set of wooden doors.
The suite’s main conference room contained a long wooden table surrounded by cushy leather chairs. A closed laptop at the far end was the only thing on its surface. I spent most of my time in this room, tooling around on the silo’s closed network, researching Project Nemesis and monitoring the rest of the silo. Or just plain killing time. I was stuck in the lab complex with no way out, and no one for company.
Fifty-four days ago, Tack had tricked me into killing him. Then Noah stormed out to fight the world. I hadn’t heard from either of them since.
I slumped into the chair before the laptop, filling a crease my body had shaped in the leather. Permanent Silo Resident Min Wilder, reporting for duty. I woke the computer and opened a program that displayed surveillance feeds. The lab complex I occupied had been built to serve as the silo’s nerve center, even beyond the main control room. A dozen people could live and work back here in relative comfort. All major systems were fully automated, requiring no input from anyone.
I had food for literally years—stacks of MREs and dehydrated meals, some that weren’t even terrible. With the blast door sealed and its physical locking pin engaged, this was probably the safest place in the entire valley. The perfect place to hide. And also die of boredom, but beggars, choosers, and all that.
So that’s what I’d been doing. Because there was no way out except through the control room, and that route was blocked by assholes.
At first, they didn’t even know I was there. How could they? They hadn’t discovered the hidden file room behind the bookcase. I’d felt a flutter in my stomach every time someone approached it, but they’d always moved on.
There were cameras everywhere inside the main silo, but none in the lab complex. I could see them, but they couldn’t see me. So I lay low, watching everything. After a week, I’d hoped they’d think I was long gone. That I’d been shot and killed in the firefight, or had taken my own life to escape.
A reasonable assumption. After all, I’d done it before.
I shivered. Hugged my arms. Rubbed them with my palms. My eyes strayed to a walnut cabinet against the far wall. I pictured the Beretta 9 mm resting inside it.
A reasonable assumption, unless you’ve done it before.
I shuddered more deeply this time, leaning back in the chair as I tried to control my breathing. My mind decided to play the torturer, looping memories of a cold muzzle pressed against my temple. Me pulling the trigger. Hot lead smashing into my skull.
I don’t think anyone could do it twice. I knew I couldn’t. I’d sit in this conference room for a goddamn year before taking that route again. Besides, another death would put me back on the razor’s edge. That seemed like a waste of Tack’s gift.
So I’d decided to settle in and wait. Bide my time. Eventually they’d slack, and I’d sneak past them and rejoin Tack and Noah. And perhaps I’d have done just that, if it hadn’t been for Sarah.
Fucking Sarah.
From the moment she arrived, the girl spent every single day in the control room—which I’d learned was properly called the command center—reading Nemesis binders. Patiently. Implacably. Earbuds in as Ethan and others stormed this way and that, arguing about supplies. I watched it all.
The laptop in front of me connected to the silo mainframe, accessing cameras on every level. I’d observed—equal parts angry, bored, and annoyed—as Derrick and the Nolan twins went through the storage alcoves, recording what they found. I’d watched as Ethan came and went, never staying long, clearly uncomfortable being so far underground. I’d watched as Sarah worked her way through row after row of project files, learning the secrets Tack, Noah, and I had discovered on our first visit. I’d seen the exact moment she figured out I was still there.
I’d been watching idly, bored to tears. Sarah was sitting at a workstation, leafing through yet another black binder, persistence endless, stamina impressive. Then, abruptly, she’d stiffened, rereading a section as she traced it with a finger, a small smile stealing over her lips. When finished, she’d looked directly into a nearby camera and waved, mouthing hello and my name.
She must’ve found some reference to the lab complex, and then guessed I was still inside it. I’d felt a twinge of panic. Did the binders include another way back here? But the worry had proven unfounded—Sarah didn’t find the hidden records room that day.
She would, eventually. Sarah was smart, and seemed determined to learn everything she could about the Program. Once she understood all the rules, she’d be a formidable enemy. I had to get out of there, but I couldn’t come up with a way to do it.
I wouldn’t risk my life unnecessarily. I had a buffer of one because of Tack’s noble and stupid sacrifice, but that was still too close for comfort. What if people were still lurking outside the reset zones? Take me out just one more time after resetting, and that’d be it. Game over for Melinda J. Wilder. For keeps this time.
So I waited. Watched. Learned all I could. Sarah wasn’t the only one who could make good use of her time.
Although, that was how she found me.
I’d been manipulating the surveillance program, keeping an eye out, when a chat box appeared in the bottom corner of my laptop screen. Sarah. She’d somehow spotted me inside the system. I shut down quickly and stayed offline for three excruciating days, but the damage was done.
Every day afterward, Sarah located me whenever I went online. At first I tried to ignore her, but a text box would pop up constantly, always with a friendly hello. And I found that I simply couldn’t stay off the grid—that computer was my only link outside the complex walls. I needed it to stay sane. Eventually, I broke down and wrote her back, telling her to fuck off, but she just sent back a winky face.
In the days that followed, we chatted from time to time, sometimes even through live video. Sarah’s doing—she’d figured out how to make the cameras and microphones on our computers work. Resourceful as always.
“I had a hunch you were still here,” she’d said the first time.
I’d swallowed. Debated closing my computer. But honestly, it had been so long since I’d seen another person—spoken to anyone—that even Sarah had been welcome company.
“Found a private spa,” I’d replied, aiming for flippant. “The food is pedestrian, but the peace and quiet is to die for.”
Sarah chuckled. “Ethan’s sworn at least once a day that you took the coward’s way out again, but I never believed him. Now he wants to dynamite a wall he’s certain you’re hiding behind. Can you believe him? Explosives. At the bottom of a hole in the ground, with thousands of tons of concrete hanging over our heads. I put an end to that idea.”
I didn’t respond. Was grateful someone was showing common sense, though I’d never thank her for it. The idea of blowing up anything near the MegaCom was insane.
“You can come out, you know.” Sarah’s steely blue eyes impaled me through the pixels. “I’ve explained to the others that it’s pointless to shoot you. My old offer stands, whatever Ethan says. We could work together. You’re a better ally than an enemy—you’ve proven that much.”
I had to admit, I was tempted. Sarah was a lot of things, but typically not a liar. Then I remembered her threats in the sheriff’s cell just before I pulled the trigger. All the nasty things she’d done to me in school. We’re all in this together.
Sarah’s heart was as black as ice. Plus, I doubted she could control Ethan in this. He had a grudge and wanted me eliminated. Given the chance, he wouldn’t pass that up.
Fake smile. “Sorry, I’m having the time of my life in here. There’s a margarita machine. Plus, so much to study,” I finished significantly.
Sarah regarded me for a moment. “Your food will run out, Min. It’s already happening up here. Ever since Noah torched the grocery store, well . . .” She shook her head, perfect lips curling with distaste. “Things have gotten worse.”
“What do you mean?” As neutrally as possible. I hungered for news from outside. I could learn anything I wanted about the silo with the touch of a finger, but the rest of the valley was a black hole. I knew nothing about my friends.
Sarah’s eyes glittered. She understood the power she had over me.
“Come out, Min.” She glanced over her shoulder, then leaned in closer to the camera. “Or let me in with you. Unarmed. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, and we can avoid this town of douchebags together.”
My heart began to pound. What was she saying? Could I do that? Why would she want inside here? We were almost the same size—I doubted either of us could overpower the other enough to make physical threats a reality. Plus, I had a gun. I could hold her hostage.
Then a thought stopped me short. Was there something she needed?
The lab. The clones. Sarah didn’t know what was back here.
She’s probably as hungry for information as I am.
Sarah hadn’t found the hidden records room yet. The location of this complex didn’t appear in the online files. I knew—I’d searched the system repeatedly.
I studied Sarah’s posture. Her casual manner. The nonchalance was feigned, I realized. This whole conversation had been carefully scripted. Sarah’s fingers quivered slightly. She kept touching her nose. Now that I was paying attention, her whole frame reeked of caged eagerness.
Sarah didn’t know where I was or what I was hiding, and it was killing her.
She’s not the only one holding cards.
“No thank you,” I said. “I value my privacy.”
Her smile faded. The line of her jaw appeared. “Then I’ll let you get back to it.”
The link winked out. I tapped a security feed, watched her slam a fist on the desk. Then she smoothed her skirt, ran a hand through her strawberry-blond hair. A moment later Sarah resumed reading as if our exchange had never happened.
Cool. Composed. Clinical.
Sarah Harden to a T.
Three more days passed. Sarah didn’t ping me, and I refused to consider contacting her first. I ate, slept, played pool, took showers. Watched the feeds. I avoided the lab area like always—I hadn’t gone in there since the first week, and even then only to try locked doors. A key ring in the operations room had accessed a collection of smaller labs, examination kiosks, closets, and offices, but they didn’t contain anything useful, the lab complex’s final mysteries proving to be yawners.
Except for the last door on the left, the one closest to the glass doors into the clone room itself. That door had a keypad entry and refused to open, no matter what I tried. I wondered constantly what was behind it—I’d still never figured out how I opened the outer blast door in the first place—though part of me didn’t want to know. I’d come across enough horrors already.
Eventually, I started thinking more and more about trying to escape. I knew Sarah would trip the bookcase eventually, and then things might get ugly. Armed with the info in those hidden files—the ones detailing the Program’s rules—she’d be a nightmare to deal with. But there was simply no way out.
If I took the “dirt nap” route, this room would be permanently sealed. I was locked inside what amounted to a military-grade bank vault. No one could get in. The keypad on the blast door couldn’t remove the six-inch steel pin I’d physically placed in the locking mechanism like a deadbolt, so it was essentially useless. That door wasn’t coming open unless I opened it. I could deny the clone chamber to everyone simply by resetting.
But was that what I wanted? What if I needed back in here for some reason? I could doom the Program’s whole mission, whatever it ended up being.
I was mulling over options for a diversion—set off the smoke alarms?—when I noticed movement on the feed. Sarah had bounced from her seat, the gleam of victory in her eyes. She arrowed straight for the shelving that hid the records room.
My heart sank into my shoes. She’d finally found the right page.
Sarah pushed on the bookcase and it hinged open. Her fingers came together to cover her mouth, like a schoolgirl pleased by a magic trick. Then she disappeared inside, where the cameras didn’t follow. I debated racing down the corridor to the blast door, but there was no point. It wouldn’t open, and I couldn’t see through it.
Sarah didn’t reemerge for eighteen hours. I counted.
I was jolted from a light doze in the security hub—the dark, narrow room where we’d first spotted Ethan’s gang on the catwalk. The floor was vibrating slightly. Alarmed, I pulled up the security feeds, watched Sarah exit the hidden room and walk through the command center. She stopped on the lowest tier, gazing through the glass of the room’s middle panel as the blast curtain rolled back, revealing the MegaCom chamber beyond.
Sarah’s face was unreadable. What was she thinking, staring at the machine that housed our universe? Did it unnerve her? Make her feel small? Knowing Sarah, probably not. She simply watched, rubbing her chin, then turned and disappeared back behind the bookcase.
I strained to see into the computer room, but got no indication of whether my theory was correct—that another way out of the silo was hidden in there. I couldn’t see much of anything through the security feeds, and the MegaCom chamber was the only other area without interior cameras. If Sarah had solved that particular riddle, she gave no sign.
Minutes later, her face popped up on a screen inside the hub. She was using a webcam in the records room. “Did you know the silo mainframe can manipulate the Program itself?” she said excitedly. “No wonder this was hidden.”
I’d been examining silo schematics, looking for a way into the computer room from the lab complex. With the blast curtain deactivated, perhaps a new path had opened. If there’s a second exit at all. Big, huge, monumental if. But I was growing certain there must be. A structure like this had to have a back door. Nothing else made sense.
I debated minimizing her, but Sarah’s statement was too incredible to ignore.
“What are you talking about?”
She had a gleeful air, like a child who’d won a carnival prize. Sarah looked at me with genuine delight. It occurred to me that I might be the only person she could talk to as well.
“The Program,” she bubbled, as if we were gossiping over brunch. “It has variables. I’ve been reading these software design books, and they say the whole system can be adjusted. We could change the environment in the valley!” Her face fell. “Not from this terminal, though. I need one with higher access.”
Careful. She’s fishing.
“Manipulated how?”
“All kinds of ways.” Her enthusiasm was nearly infectious. I wondered if under different circumstances we might’ve been good friends. “Weather. Daylight. Even wild animals. Wouldn’t you just kill to hear the birds sing again? It’s possible! According to these manuals, anyway.”
I couldn’t believe it. Intellectually, I knew we were living inside a computer program, even though it was impossible to tell the difference. But to change our environment at will . . . The idea was amazing. Godlike. Terrifying. I mouthed a quick prayer that Sarah never figured out how to do it.
She seemed to guess my thoughts. “We could make this place better, you know.”
I snorted. “Right. Better. Because that’s been your goal so far.”
Sarah nostrils flared. I’d clearly struck a nerve. “You can be so stupid, Min. For all your abilities, you’re as blind as Ethan sometimes. Maybe worse. At least he knows what he wants.”
Her words stung. “Don’t talk to me about blindness,” I shot back, heat rising to my cheeks. “You’re enabling a dictator. Own that shit, Sarah. By propping him up, you’re making it all happen.”
Sarah’s face flushed. She was furious, which surprised me. It went against her nature.
“You’re such a child, Min,” she said coldly, leaning back and resting her hands in her lap. “Do you have any idea what I’ve done for this valley? The circumstances I’ve prevented?”
I shook my head, frowning. “What do you mean?”
Sarah spread both hands palms up, glaring at me with disdain. “There are no rules here, precious little snowflake. Think about that. No. Rules. And we’re surrounded by a group of high school boys hopped up on adrenaline. Boys who can’t die. What do you think is keeping them in line?” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Do you think this is as bad as it could get?”
I felt a creeping chill along my backbone. Found my tongue tied.
“I keep the monsters at bay,” Sarah hissed, staring daggers at me. “I destroyed the liquor store the first week. I let Cash and Finn get drunk and smash everything. Then I gave all the boys stupid tasks to keep them busy. I convinced Ethan he needed perfect order to maintain control. I outlawed vandalism, because that can lead to worse crimes. Assault. Torture. Rape. What do you think is holding all that back?”
Eyes blazing, Sarah tapped the center of her chest. “Me. My influence. I was the only thing standing between society and chaos. I’ve known about this silo forever, but decided it was too big a deal for Ethan and Toby. I didn’t tell anyone until Noah lost his mind and decided to blow up our food. I’ve spent weeks and weeks keeping a lid on things, preventing one disaster after another. But now I’m down here.”
My breath caught. Footprints in the snow. Of course it had been Sarah. Her reset point was inside the fence. How long has she known? Before the Program? Had she been inside?
I was reeling, but Sarah didn’t let up. She leaned close to the camera. “You know who the fucking problems have been? You and Tack, traipsing all over the valley and riling people up. Meanwhile, Noah’s death squad has killed more people than everyone else combined.”
“No.” I shook my head weakly. “That’s not—”
“You’ve tried to do right, Min. I’ll give you that. And Ethan shouldn’t have stabbed Tack in the church. That was stupid, and I don’t blame you guys for losing it there for a while. But since then, you’ve screwed up every step of the way, and people are dying as a result.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t defend myself. God in heaven . . . was it true?
“Things have gotten bad topside.” Sarah put a hand to her forehead, then ran it back through her hair a few times. Spoke in a calmer voice. “Since Noah torched the grocery store, food is short everywhere. Then a transformer blew, and power failed across the valley. Nobody has a clue how to fix it. That’s a serious problem. Did you miss that winter arrived while you’ve been hiding? People outside are just trying to survive right now.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked pointedly, trying to regain a foothold in the conversation. “Have you given up on empire and started running a democracy? If so, come right inside.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Such a Girl Scout,” she muttered. Then she took a heavy breath, refocusing. Something vulnerable slipped into her voice. “Let me in with you. Seriously, a truce. We can forget the others and stay safe together. Let these idiot boys destroy each other with their stupid wars. Fear of Ethan was the only thing keeping the valley from becoming a living hell, but . . . it won’t last. Things are about to get worse.”
I blinked. “You want to abandon everyone else and hide in here. With me.”
Sarah nodded without embarrassment. “I accept your presence there as earned. Please accept mine.” She licked her lips, eagerness sliding into her voice. “The terminal that can alter source code must be where you are. Think about it, Min. By tweaking the variables, we can accelerate this phase ourselves.”
With a sharp shock, I understood what she was suggesting. My heart rate spiked, even as revulsion roiled my gut. “You want to turn the Program against our classmates. Literally kill them with it.”
“It’s going to happen anyway,” Sarah countered, exasperation in her voice. “This phase doesn’t stop until the Program is satisfied. But we don’t have to be part of the chaos. We’ll just turn up the pressure and let the lunatics sort themselves out, while staying out of the line of fire. It’s perfect.”
We’re all in this together.
I shook my head. Sat back and crossed my arms, unable to hide my disgust. “Fuck you, Sarah. I won’t lock us in together so you can kill everyone else. You’re insane.”
Sarah’s jaw clenched. I could almost hear her teeth grinding. Her whole body quivered for a moment, then she spoke in a clipped voice. “Fine. I’ll take it from you, then.”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling tired. “Bring it, bitch.”
Her nostrils flared, but Sarah visibly calmed herself. Cocked her head slightly. “Do you know why you’re always a failure, Min? Your whole pathetic life? It’s because you lack commitment. I have it. So do the other betas, in their own ways. But not you.”
Sarah sneered, no trace of empathy in her eyes. “I’ll win because I won’t accept anything less. Ethan will survive, too—he’s so stubborn that it’s actually impressive. And Noah?” Sarah snorted. “Noah’s a zealot. He’s completely given himself over to the cause.” Then she flashed a shark’s smile. “But not you. You’ll lose, Min. Not because you’re stupid, or incapable, or anything like that. You’ll lose because you’re too broken to adapt, and too weak to lead. People like you always lose. And then they’re forgotten. Good-bye.”
Her hand rose and the chat box winked out.
I gasped aloud, reeling. Tears stung my eyelids. She’d taken me apart as easily as breaking a vase, and the worst part was, she was right.
Every word of it.
I was about to lose it completely when an alarm began blaring from somewhere deep inside the complex. “What now?” I moaned, but I rose and hurried toward it, secretly grateful for a way to avoid what Sarah had said. I wanted to hide from the truth.
Leaving the office suite, I passed into the living quarters, nerves fraying with every step. The noise was coming from the lab section beyond. I really, really didn’t want to go in there, but had no choice. I took a deep breath and pushed through the doors.
The last door on the left. The locked one. A yellow button was blinking on its keypad as an alarm sounded from a speaker above it.
I pressed the button without thinking, and the sound abruptly ceased.
A buzz startled me and I jumped back.
The door swung open on silent hinges.