I’m not sure how long I’ve known Lacey—can’t remember my past—but since returning, she’s been my constant friend. “I’m fine,” I tell her. “Scared, but fine. James and I went to meet you at the border, but you weren’t there.” Dread slips in. “Dallas said Kevin was gone.”
Lacey gives a quick nod, unable to hold my eyes. “He never made it to the rendezvous point,” she says. “He was taken into custody, I guess. I . . . don’t know where he is now.” Her grip on my arms tightens, and I know there’s more to her and Kevin’s relationship than she ever let on. Whatever it is, she’s not going to tell me right now. She pulls me forward into the room where Dallas and a few others are standing around.
In the middle of the dim space is an oval table with at least a dozen chairs. The wood is warped and some of the seats look like they might collapse, but Dallas grabs one, spinning it to sit on it backward. Her gaze is immediately drawn to the door when James walks in.
James scans the room, pausing when he notices Lacey. “I’m digging the red,” he tells her, even though I think he really means to say he’s glad she’s safe.
Lacey smiles, her expression softening. “Why am I not surprised to see you here, James? Oh, that’s right. Because you’re a pain in the ass who constantly defies authority.”
He reaches to pull out a chair for her. “Looks like we have a lot in common.” After she sits, James pulls out another chair for me and then takes the next spot over. “So, Dallas,” he calls, leaning his elbows on the table. “What’s the plan here? What exactly do the rebels do?”
The three people around Dallas sit down, waiting for her to explain. They look normal—and not “returner” normal either; there are no collared polos or khaki skirts. Regular normal.
“Not all of us have been through The Program,” Dallas starts. “Some, like Cas”—she points to him—“are here because someone they cared about disappeared, committed suicide. Or forgot them completely.” The girl next to Dallas lowers her head. “The Program is everywhere, and it’s becoming harder and harder to find people to fight with us. Especially adults. The rebels are trying to grow, to expand so we’ll have the numbers to inflict real damage. But The Program is always one step ahead of us.”
“What happened to the other rebels?” James asks. “The ones who were in your safe house?”
Dallas wilts slightly. “The place was raided,” she begins, “and the ones who didn’t get away were dragged back into The Program. The official report said they were in recall—a side effect where memories crash back and drive a person insane—but that was a lie. The Program took them into custody to squash any rebellion. But they couldn’t risk another incident.” Her face grows pale. Suddenly she’s not a rebel. She’s just a girl. “The Program makes them disappear.”
“What?” James asks, wide-eyed. “Are they killing them?”
“We don’t know what they’re doing to them. All we know is, certain patients disappear. They never contact us again; they never pop up on our radar. Basically, if The Program catches us . . . they’ll end us.”
“We have to save them,” James says. “We can’t let—”
“It’s too late.” Dallas waves her hand. “There’s no way to break anyone out of The Program. We’ve tried.”
“Maybe you’re doing it wrong.”
“Shut up, James,” she says dismissively. “Like you know. We’ve tried, we’ve failed. It never ends well, so we’ve had to write them off. It’s not like it was an easy decision.”
“What are you going to do, then?” he demands. I can’t believe Dallas would just give up. She seemed tougher than this.
Dallas takes a second to compose her thoughts, and it’s like I can see her hardening herself against them. “They’re the accepted loss,” she says coldly. “For now, we’re what’s left. But I’m trying to find someone, something, to help us. When we gather everyone together again, we’ll fight. I promise you we’ll fight.”
Dallas stands, pulling her long dreads into a high knot. She looks rattled by James’s comments, and she can’t hold his eyes. “I suggest you get some sleep,” Dallas says in our direction. “We have plans later, so I’ll need you back here at four.” Before we can ask any more questions, she leaves the room, taking the conversation with her. It’s quiet for a moment, and then James leans over to whisper to me.
“If I ever get sent away, Sloane, I expect you to save my ass. Is that clear?”
“And vice versa,” I say. He gives a definitive nod and then turns to study the others in the room. Lacey is sitting quietly, her arms folded over her chest. This may be the most subdued I’ve ever seen her. It worries me. My stomach growls loudly, and James glances at me before calling to Cas.
“Hey, man,” he says. “Do you have any food in this place? This one”—he hikes his thumb in my direction—“sounds like she’s on a hunger strike.”
Cas laughs. “Yeah. Let me show you around.” I get up, but Lacey is still sitting there, rubbing her forehead like she has a headache.
“You okay?” I ask, reaching to touch her shoulder.
She lifts her gaze, and her eyes are out of focus, as if she’s staring through me. “Stress. Rebels. Who knows?” She smiles weakly. “It’ll pass.”
Her response does little to placate my worry. “James,” I say, turning to him. “I’ll catch up with you in a second.” He leans forward as if asking if everything is all right. When I nod that it is, he walks out into the hallway with Cas. I move closer to Lacey.
“We’ve been through a hell of a lot,” I tell her. The other rebels eventually filter out, and in the quiet, the sadness starts to fill the air. “I’m sorry about Kevin.”
Lacey closes her eyes. “Me too.”
Kevin was the handler assigned to me right after The Program, and Lacey was my only friend. I had no idea they even knew each other until Realm’s sister mentioned it. “How did you get involved with the rebels?” I ask Lacey. The room is empty, but I keep my voice hushed—paranoia engrained at this point in my recovery.
“It was Kevin,” she says. “I met him at Sumpter High, weeks before you ever showed up. There was something about him that told me he wasn’t like the other handlers. We met a few times at the Wellness Center. Talked outside. And then we went out for coffee—in another town, of course. He told me he could see I was a fighter. He asked me to be part of the rebels. Then you appeared, and you were like me—a natural troublemaker, I think.” We both smile at this, but I ache at the loss of Kevin. He was my friend.
“He called me before he disappeared,” Lacey says, swiping under her eyes to catch the tears. “Kevin thought he was being followed and told me to go ahead without him to meet you and James. He said he’d see me at the rendezvous point. I waited so long. I waited until Cas and Dallas showed up, and I fought them when they tried to make me leave without Kevin. I even punched Cas in the face. I fought like hell, but they shoved me into another van and one of the guys swept me away to here—just a few hours ahead of you. I think Kevin’s gone, Sloane,” she says. “I think he’s dead.”
“He could be in The Program,” I offer, although I’m not sure what sort of consolation that’s supposed to be, especially now that Dallas has told us that rebels disappear. “When this is over, we can find him.”
Lacey wipes roughly at her cheeks, clearing away the tears she couldn’t catch. “No,” she says. “He’s over eighteen and he knows too much. They’ve killed him. I know they have.”