I almost want to cover my ears to shield them from all the buzzing, clomping, and snapping that vibrates through the air. Air that smells like a mixture of fuel and the barely perceptible stench of meat that’s just starting to go bad.
Then it occurs to me. These are more than just scouts on a diplomatic mission.
It’s an army.
A huge screen dominates the far side of the hangar bay. On it is an aerial view of the Parish. It seems that Sanctum has the Parish under close surveillance. They must have spies on the inside, spies within the innermost workings of the Establishment.
I have to warn Cage and the rebels. I grab my transceiver. If they get this message and broadcast it to the entire Parish, there might be a chance to deal a significant blow to the Establishment, Cassius, and Sanctum all at once.
Digory’s face is brimming with different emotions. It’s as though the footage of our home has unleashed deep feelings inside him, feelings he’d prefer to keep buried forever rather than have to relive the horrors that caused him to block them all out in the first place.
The hangar door blows open and we barely manage to move out of the way in time. Then the Fleshers that were pursuing us swarm in like an insect colony, taking their positions all around us.
There’s nowhere left to go.
Straton and Cassius trail into the bay behind them.
Cassius notices my amazement and smiles. “This is how we’re finally going to be rid of the Establishment once and for all.”
“This is your peaceful solution? Hundreds—thousands—of innocent people slaughtered in battle? Captured and mutated into these things?” My voice is barely audible over the clamor of activity engulfing the hangar bay. I turn to Straton. “Or, consumed for the greater good?”
Straton smiles. “Tomorrow morning our regiments march on the Parish. It is time the experiment be brought to its conclusion.”
I ignore him, homing in on Cassius. “Just get it over with quickly.”
Cassius cocks his head. His eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“Our deaths,” I respond. My words simmer on their way to boiling point. “You’re obviously not going to let us go, not with everything we know. When you murder us, just do it fast, Cassius, if I ever meant anything to you at all, like you claim.”
My eyes sync with Digory’s. He nods. No trace of fear on his face. At least we can have a few more minutes together. This time we’ll die together, the way it should be.
Cassius shakes his head with something akin to pity in his eyes. “Everything with you, Lucian, is always so black and white. Just because the sky is occasionally gray doesn’t mean the rain will fall.”
My resolve turns to dread. “You’re not going to kill us?” The thought of what might now be in store for us makes me long for death. I can’t help think of this processing plant and what it stands for.
Cassius sighs. “Once again you misjudge me, Lucky.” His eyes bounce between Digory and me. “The both of you are far too valuable alive—oh, I know you’re thinking about the limited food resources here in Sanctum and the way the religious choose to bond with their enemies.” He shakes his head. “That will never happen to either you or Tycho, I promise.”
My lips purse. I shift my gaze to Straton and the Fleshers. “So you’re not going to let them eat us. I guess I should thank you, but I’m sure that you understand if I don’t.”
Now Cassius’s lips bow into a serpentine smile. “Even though I imagine the rabble would be more than pleased to behold their protector—the great Torch Keeper himself—in the flesh, you’ll stay here in Sanctum under my protection while I escort the ailing Prime Minister Talon back to the Parish for some accountability issues. Trust me, Lucian. We both want the same thing. The Establishment must be stopped.” He pauses. “As must the insurrection.”
My blood turns to ice water. “What do you mean?”
He stares directly into my eyes. “Your friends who escaped Infiernos—that Micajah and his sister, your fellow trainees—they’re being tracked by a homing beacon aboard their ship. As soon as they make contact with their fellow insurrectionists, squadrons will be sent to neutralize them.”
I’m stunned. Here I thought my friends had a chance. Now, not only they but the rest of the resistance—the very people who are the Parish’s last chance—are doomed.
But if they received the data I transmitted, they could still be safe.
I swallow hard. As far as Cassius is concerned, I’ve learned not to rule anything out as long as there’s some detail in need of clarification.
“What about Digory?” I finally dare to ask.
Cassius stares at Digory, then back at me. “It’s time to initiate the next phase of his Ultra Imposer Program.” He leans in close. “When Tycho didn’t die from that virus they injected, the decision was made to study him—to test bio-warfare on his immune system in order to genetically engineer the perfect Imposer. Tycho will undergo the nanotech procedure and become a new breed of Flesher.”
THIRTY-FIVE
The walk to nanotech lab is the longest one in my life. Leading us is a squad of armed Sanctum personnel. The four Fleshers who used to be the Fallen Five flank us. I can’t help but wonder how they feel—if they feel anything at all—as they travel the path that transformed them from frightened Recruits into the lumbering machines trundling beside us, seemingly cold and impassive. Surely there’s some remnant of their former selves inside them. The way the one shared the ID tags and let us go, I have to believe the Fallen Five aren’t completely dead. If I don’t cling to this, I’ll have to accept that Digory will be dead within minutes.
And he’ll never come back again.
We enter a sector we haven’t been to before. I’m still wearing the same jumpsuit, but Digory’s been stripped to nothing but a pair of neon white shorts, the contours of his body glistening from the antiseptic solution they dipped him in during the procedure prep.
As we’re marched along, I can’t stop staring at him, wishing we’d never left that park we landed in. It was the only time since we’ve met that we were truly free and happy, if only for a short while.
We reach a flight of steps leading up to a triangular platform. In its center, a transparent, bubblelike container is suspended by translucent cables pulsating with glowing light and leading into a bank of flashing, oblong instruments. The bubble descends and splits open like a blooming flower, its interior large enough to encase a body.
My heart forgets to beat.
I feel like a cornered animal. My fight-or-flight instinct is triggered in a mad rush of panic and adrenaline, as if I were back competing in the Trials.
But Digory’s face is calm, resolute. He stares back at me with weary eyes, the hint of a reassuring smile on his lips.
The Fleshers prod us closer to the bubble. Cassius and Straton are already waiting there, the flickering light from the cables alternately bathing them in eerie iridescence, which gives their eyes an almost glowing effect, and shadows, which carve their features into hard edges.
I take a step toward Cassius. “Please. Don’t do this. He’s been through enough. Take me instead.”
My words break Digory’s calm façade. He grunts and pushes forward, trying to shield me with his body.
“L-Lucky.” His deep voice echoes through the chamber.