22

I CAN’T BREATHE. THE BLOOD SEEPS AWAY FROM MY FEET again, turning my toes into blocks of ice.

“When?” I ask.

“Just a few minutes ago,” Yolly says. “Barnard called some kind of Central Office security agents, and they drove her away. But Shannon was fine; she was perfectly healthy.”

“I know,” I say.

“And you were right.” Yolly makes the odd gulping sound of someone holding back tears. “About the files. I checked them like you asked. The dosages do get higher before people die, and everyone’s chronotin levels are really, really low at the end. And Shannon—I checked her blood when she first came in, before Barnard got here. Her chronotin reading was 308. But she wasn’t sick.”

“I know,” I say again.

“Nothing makes any sense. Everything is crazy here. The kids are crying, there are boxes everywhere. And they won’t let me go with them, even though I volunteered.”

“Go with them?” I interrupt. “Go where?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Yolly draws in a shaky breath. “The Center. They moved up the closing date. They’re taking everyone to the Central Office first thing tomorrow morning.”

The chill in my feet spreads higher. Goose bumps dot my legs.

“Tomorrow?”

“What’s she saying?” KJ asks, out loud this time.

I smash the phone harder against my ear, straining to hear Yolly over the diner’s clatter. “I thought it wasn’t closing until the end of the month?”

“Dr. Barnard said something about a research project,” Yolly wails. “None of this makes any sense.”

It makes perfect sense to me. The research project may be legit, but it’s also an excuse—the Center’s higher-ups are not going to keep a facility open if its spinners are escaping.

“What’s going on?” KJ raises his voice. I glance around the diner. A couple at a table near ours turns to watch us. I hold up a finger in KJ’s direction. One minute.

“Yolly,” I say. “We’ll help—I promise—but I need to think. Can I call you back at this number?” Yolly mumbles something like agreement. “OK,” I say. “In the meantime, don’t talk about this to anyone. Anyone. Not the kids, not the staff, not your best friend. And don’t ask Barnard any questions when he comes back. He can’t think you’re suspicious. OK? Promise? I’ll call you back soon.”

I hang up. KJ is leaning across the table, his arms stretched even closer as if their proximity might help him hear better.

“What’s going on?” he asks again.

The couple at the other table are still casting surreptitious glances in our direction. The woman wears a small frown. I give her my best reassuring smile.

“Let’s get out of here,” I mutter to KJ.

Five minutes later, alone on the empty sidewalk, I tell him Shannon is gone.

“We have to save her.” KJ strides down the street so fast I start trotting in order to keep level with him.

“How?” I ask. “She’s in a car with a wiper right now.”

“We’ll follow them.”

“We don’t know where the Central Office is.”

“We can ask Yolly. Or break into the Center and search Barnard’s office.”

“It’s not just Shannon.” Greasy breakfast and bad news swell my insides. If KJ doesn’t slow down soon, I’m going to puke. “Barnard moved the date up. He’s closing the Center tomorrow and sending everyone to the Central Office.”

KJ stops walking so suddenly that I’ve gone three steps past him before I realize he isn’t there. I turn around. KJ is standing stock-still in the center of the sidewalk. He’s the picture of dejection: shoulders slumped, arms dangling by his sides, hands loose and empty.

“So he’s murdering them.” KJ stares at the ground, his voice so flat it sounds as if he’s reading the words off the sidewalk.

“He won’t kill them right off the bat,” I say, aching for the words to be true. “Maybe this research project is just a small thing, and then when he’s done, he’ll send them back.”

KJ shakes his head. “He’s never sending them back. The Center has to be crawling with rumors. Aidan saw Jack vanish the day you got us all out, plus you’ve popped in and out of there, what, twice? If the other kids know the truth, or even suspect it, they can never be part of a new Center.”

A truck rumbles past, blasting warm diesel air. The smell coats the inside of my nose. It tastes like ash.

“KJ.”

He raises his head. His eyes are pure black, as if everything that usually lies behind them, all the joy and life that is KJ, has winked out, leaving only darkness behind.

“She’s going to die,” he says. “They all are. Because of us.”

My stomach twists. KJ said us, but I know most of the blame is mine. I’m the one who “popped in and out” of the Center. I’m the one who made Jack disappear.

The three-step separation between me and KJ yawns like a chasm. I want to close the gap—hug him, soothe his hurt—but I know I can’t. Our last embrace led us here. The only reason we are alone together is because Shannon is gone.

“We’ll get them out tonight,” I say. “All of them.”

“How?”

A fierce energy bursts open inside me. The odds are against us, and we have two choices: crumble and die or gear up for a fight. If I’m going to choose a fight, I’m going to make it a good one.

“Yolly,” I say, putting a plan together as I speak. “When Miguel said we’d never break out a third time, he didn’t consider that we might have an inside helper.”

There’s still no flicker in KJ’s eyes, no spark of hope or enthusiasm. He just studies me for a while. Then he nods.