“I did.” Ariel sits up. “And I also failed you. I knew who you were the second Abraham called and said he’d met a girl. I knew and never told you. You were right. I knew the Guard was going to take you, although I had no idea they’d take you so soon.” He looks at Abe now. “I knew where she was, and I didn’t tell you.” His old eyes are sad, regretful.
“You didn’t know what Alpha was up to.” Abe says it like a fact, not like a guess.
“I did not.”
“Maybe I should have told you in 1963.” My voice is weak. My mouth is dry. I swallow. “Maybe you could have stopped Alpha from the start. Maybe then my dad—”
“Let your father go,” Ariel says. “I didn’t want you to tell me about the past, because I didn’t want it to influence my future behavior. And I’m glad you didn’t tell me, because now I’ve been able to watch the organization unfold over three generations; and there is no doubt in my mind that I no longer believe in it and will fight to shut it down.”
“But you founded it!”
“When I was very young and very naive. Back when I thought changing the past was the right thing. I no longer think it is. There’s a reason I never let my son join, as well as a reason the president himself received a phone call when I found out they’d taken Abraham.”
Abe takes my hand. “But I’m in the Guard now. If Amanda is in, I’m in.”
“No, you’re not,” Ariel says. “You’re done, and you’re going back to school, and you’re moving on with your life.”
“Grandpa!” Abe protests.
Ariel squeezes my hand again. “I can’t make that call for you. But I hope you’ll make the right decision.” Then he stands up as much as he can in an ambulance and backs his way to the door.
“We’re not done talking about this!” Abe throws at his grandfather.
“Yes,” Ariel says as he climbs down, “we are.”
Abe’s head whips back to me, and he leans down close. “I meant what I said. If you’re staying, I’m staying.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whisper. It’s the truth. My head is spinning in a million different directions. Between Alpha and Yellow and now Ariel and Abe, and I just want it to stop. I want it all to stop.
“Abe, I don’t know if I can do this.”
He takes my hand. “If it’s what you want, I’ll help you. We’ll both be Annum Guard together. And if it’s not what you want, we’ll both be CIA together. And if you’re sick and tired of everything, then we’ll just go be normal together. Go to college. Get a place together someday. You and me.”
Once upon a time that idea would have filled me with excitement. But now I don’t know. I don’t understand anything anymore.
“Abraham!” Ariel’s voice booms from outside the ambulance. “Now!”
Abe squeezes my hand. His eyes are moist. “I’ll find a way for us to be together. It will happen, Amanda. It will.”
I nod my head. Tears are forming in my eyes, and I don’t know how to hold them back. Abe lets go of my hand, breathes a good-bye, and disappears from the ambulance.
And then the tears fall. I don’t try to stop them. I cry for my dad, for my mom, for Yellow, myself, even Alpha. And especially for Abe. It’s as if the universe doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know how long I can keep fighting it.
Abe’s gone. He’s gone. And I don’t know when I’ll see him again. Whether I’ll ever see him again. I choke.
“Abe!” I yell after him.
He doesn’t respond. But someone does. Many someones. And then the secretary of defense, the director of National Intelligence, the National Security adviser, the FBI director, and the vice president all squeeze into the back of the ambulance and shut the door.
CHAPTER 29
I don’t go back to Annum Hall. I don’t want to. I’m so tired. I lost my leader, then my boyfriend, and maybe even my friend. I went through a whole night’s worth of questioning. It’s seven in the morning, I haven’t slept since Dallas, and I don’t want to contemplate anything: Vaughn, CE, XP, the charred notebook. I just want to go to Mass General. So I do. To the reception area.
“My friend was shot,” I tell the very no-nonsense woman with frizzy hair sitting behind a computer. “I need to find her.”
“What’s her name?” the woman asks as she places her fingers over the keyboard.
I open my mouth, then close it. Because I don’t know. Somehow I’m going to doubt she’s here under “Yellow.” But then I remember Indigo’s anguished screams piercing the sky. The name he called her. The name he yelled over and over again.
“Elizabeth,” I say. “Her name is Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth what?” the woman asks in this totally annoyed voice.
“I don’t know her last name.”
The woman takes her hands off the keys. “I guess you guys aren’t very good friends then, are you? I can’t help you without a last name.”
And now I really have to restrain myself. I’m tired. I’m sore. I’ve lost almost three months of my life. I’ve lost my boyfriend. My father. My father’s friend. Everyone. Everything. I have no idea if Yellow is all right. I’m ready for a release. I clench my fists.
“Iris!”
My head pops up.
“Indigo!”
I push off the desk and run over to him. I run right into his arms, and he wraps them around me and holds me tight.
“How is she?” I ask, my mouth pressed into his shoulder.
“She’s okay.” Indigo’s voice is hurried, scared, exhausted, all in one. “They had to rush her into surgery to repair the damage, but she made it through.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “This is all my fault. Yellow getting shot. I should have stayed when I found out the truth. Then no one would have chased after me and no one—”
Indigo holds a finger to my mouth. “Stop. None of this is your fault.”
“But—”
“None of it.” He steps back and looks me in the eyes. “Your dad really was Annum Guard?”
“Yes,” I say.
“I always wanted to believe you were right. I think deep down I knew it. You’re a good person. You wouldn’t do all those things Alpha accused you of doing. All those months we were tracking you, I was actually hoping we wouldn’t find you. That you’d just disappear and go be free and happy somewhere.”
“There was never freedom and happiness. Not until I ended this.”
Indigo nods. “Everything’s changing. I don’t know where Annum Guard is going to go from here. If we’ll even exist anymore. We don’t have a leader. I mean, maybe my dad will take over when everything gets cleared up, but I don’t know. I don’t know if he wants to. Seems we’re dropping like flies these days. Blue’s gone.”
I should be shocked. But I’m not. Blue has always been gone. Ever since he was betrayed on Testing Day his junior year.
“Tyler,” I say. “His name is Tyler. And my name is Amanda. Not Iris.”
Indigo waits a second and then holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Amanda. I’m Nick.”
Nick. I repeat the name in my head a few times. Nick. Nick. It sounds so weird.
Beside us, someone clears a throat. Indigo—Nick—and I both turn. Zeta is standing there. He looks as if he’s aged twenty years since I last saw him. His blue eyes are weary and weathered, and his hair seems less brown and more gray today. Wrinkles snake across his face. “They just moved her out of Recovery. She’s awake and asking for you.”
Indigo drops my hand. “I have to go.” I nod at him, and he starts down the hall. But Zeta holds out his arm to stop him.
“I meant you,” he says, looking directly at me. “She’s asking for you.”
“Me?” I repeat.
Zeta nods. “I’ll show you the way.”