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Someone off-camera says, “Hannah,” and Baby looks up blankly.

“Yes?” she asks hesitantly. It’s so strange to hear her voice after our years of silence together. I didn’t even know she could speak until Rice revealed that he knew her true name, shocking her into repeating it. That was just moments before I was taken to the Ward. After that I was allowed to see her only while I was heavily drugged.

“Hannah, we’re going to ask you a few simple questions.” My chest constricts. I recognize the voice now. It’s Dr. Thorpe, my Ward psychiatrist.

“What’s your full name?” Dr. Thorpe asks.

“Hannah O’Brian,” Baby replies softly.

“Have you ever gone by any other name?”

Baby looks off-camera, confused, and shakes her head.

“How old are you?”

“Six.” Baby tugs at another strand of her dull blond hair, then yanks it out.

“And where do you live?”

“New Hope.”

“And do you have any family in New Hope?”

Baby looks at this camera this time. “New Hope is my family.”

“Yes,” Dr. Thorpe’s voice prompts. “But any family members living in New Hope?”

Baby scrunches her face. “No . . . my family is gone. I have no one.”

I take a step back and sit on the bed, utterly deflated. I feel the pieces of my heart shattering in my chest.

Gareth pauses the recording. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie, then swallow. “What are they doing to her?”

“I think . . . with all she’s been through, Baby is weak. She’s not thinking straight. They’re letting her forget the truth and filling her head with lies. They’re trying to change her history.”

“Brainwash her?” I ask. “When I was in the Ward, Dr. Reynolds once threatened to tell her I had died.”

Gareth sits next to me and puts his arm around me, resting his head next to mine. “Amy, I’m sorry, honey. I think they’re going a step further than that. They’re trying to convince her that you never existed.”

I close my eyes for a few moments, and we sit in silence. “Let’s watch the rest,” I tell him, opening my eyes.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“I have to see what they’re doing to her.”

He pushes play and I listen while Dr. Thorpe asks Baby more questions, planting the seeds of lies in her head. I watch as Dr. Thorpe tries to unmake me.

Chapter Thirty-five

Hours later, when Gareth has gone, there is a knock at the door. I assume it’s Kay, but I look through the peephole just to be sure. When I see who it is, I fumble with the lock and yank the door open with shaking hands.

“Rice,” I whisper, not really knowing what else to say.

“Amy,” he says breathlessly, the expression on his face caught between worry and joy.

A moment passes, and I realize he’s standing there, waiting for me to let him in.

“Come in,” I murmur, stepping back and motioning him inside and out of sight. When he’s closed the door behind him, he just stands there with that same weird look, adjusting and readjusting his glasses.

“Amy, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’ve been—” He stops and stares at me. “I couldn’t get away. And also, I’ve been scared to come.”

“Scared?” I ask in a soft voice.

“Yes. I missed you so much. . . . It really freaked me out. When you left, I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. So it took me a little while to find the courage to get over here.”

I don’t know what to say. These past months I’ve thought about Rice, about the moment I would see him again. Now he’s here, and it doesn’t feel real.

“Does that make sense?” he asks softly.

“I’ve . . . I’ve been waiting here. Not knowing anything. And you were too scared to come?” Did he think telling me that would make me feel better?

“I know, I’m so sorry. Please, Amy. Can you forgive me?”

Instead of answering, I take a step forward and tentatively reach out to him. Before I know what I’m doing, I wrap my arms around him. He’s thinner than I remember. I can feel his ribs. Everything I missed about him comes racing back—his solid reasoning, his quiet nature, the way he always makes me feel safe. I always feel right when I’m with Rice.

He runs his hands softly through my short hair and, taking my face in his grasp, he brushes his lips against mine—tentatively at first, then pressing more firmly.

He’s kissing me. And suddenly things no longer feel right—they feel horribly wrong. I break off our kiss abruptly and back away from him.

“I’m sorry, Amy.” He looks confused and under that, exhausted. “I just can’t believe you’re here,” he says.

“You must have known I’d come back.”

“Yes, of course you would.” He looks at the floor. “Baby’s here.”

“Yeah, Baby and . . .” I trail off, embarrassed. I’d thought about him so much, but what was truly between us? He helped me and promised to help Baby.

Baby.

I move away from him to peek out the window. No one’s out there.

“Rice, I saw a video of Baby. Kay brought it to me. It was awful. What are they doing to her?”

“I haven’t been able to get her away from Dr. Reynolds,” he says, pulling me from the window to sit on the sofa.

“Well, you have to try harder,” I tell him. Frustratingly, tears are starting to well up. I wipe them away angrily with my synth-suit-covered hands.

“I’ve tried, Amy,” he says gently. “It’s not a simple thing.”

I look at Rice in his lab coat and glasses. He’s so different from Jacks. It took some convincing, but once Jacks was on my side, he was there. He wouldn’t hesitate to help me break Baby out. He wouldn’t think about it.

I take a breath, collecting myself. Jacks isn’t here. For all I know, he’s dead.

“Have you been working with Dr. Reynolds, testing Baby’s blood?”

Rice seems again confused by my cold tone. “Yes, of course. It’s my job, and it lets me keep an eye on her.”

“Right. So you can watch them hurt her. Watch them brainwash her. How could you let this happen?”

“Amy—”

“You promised to protect her.” I’m taking out my frustrations on him, but I can’t stop myself. “If they needed a test subject, you should have volunteered yourself.”

Rice looks at the floor, his face pinched. He’s gripping one hand with another, but they’re both shaking.

“Dr. Reynolds doesn’t know, does he?” I ask him. “He has no idea that you took the original vaccine, too. Were you part of the original experiment? Were you a test subject?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “After my parents died, Dr. Reynolds took me in. He kept me out of the foster care system, out of the group homes. I . . . I helped him with his experiments, but only because I didn’t know what kind of a man he really was.”

I flinch away from him, horrified by his admission.

“Amy, he was like a father to me,” he tells me, desperately wanting me to understand. “When the original infection broke out, I was scared, and I injected myself with the vaccine. Reynolds never knew. Before you, the only person to know was Katie . . . the girl I told you about. The one who died setting up the emitters with me.” He looks up at me, his eyes haunted. “I would’ve told him if I thought it would make a difference. Just because I injected myself with the original vaccine doesn’t mean that I’m immune. Do you know how many times we’ve tested it since then? How many people we’ve sacrificed?”