CHAPTER 13
HALF AN HOUR AFTER SEVER carries Prodigy’s lifeless body out of our house, we’re all seated in the gym, and it’s a much more somber scene than days past. I don’t know where they’ve taken Prodigy—presumably back to his mother. What will she do when they show up on her doorstep with her dead son, her “baby boy”? What would my mom do if it were me they were bringing home in a body bag? My mind recoils at the image that question conjures, and I’m quick to shove it away. I can’t explore that line of thinking without sending myself into a dark place. Darker than the place you end up in when you find your housemate dead.
But what about when you find your roommate dead? Maverick sits in a far corner, separated from everyone else, with his knees drawn to his chest, like he’s trying to make himself small and invisible. His expression is blank, unreadable, but there’s a hint of something broken lurking just beneath the cool exterior he’s effecting. Is Prodigy’s death bringing up memories of his brother? The urge to go to him is an itch in the bottom of my feet, one I stamp out rather than give in to. I wouldn’t know what to say when I got there. Instead, I say a silent prayer for him, for strength and comfort, and all the things that I can’t give him.
The instructors talk quietly, but candidly, near the door, and several recruits closest to them lean closer trying to hear. I might, too, if I were closer. Or I might not. I don’t really have any desire to listen to anyone talk about the life that was lost today.
Finally, they finish their discussion and move to the center of the room. Wraith takes the lead. “In light of the circumstances this morning, we’re going to give everyone an extra day of liberty. Instead of liberty starting at 1630 today, it will begin now. There will be no final memory exercise. But we are going to use your scores from yesterday’s practice exercise in place of the final scores. So, whatever your score was yesterday, that’s your official score. Since one recruit…” She trails off briefly. “Since Prodigy is no longer with us, only five recruits will be eliminated today.” She doesn’t say it out loud, but we’re probably all thinking the same thing. Prodigy’s death is a boon for someone.
And I’m a horrible person.
While Wraith is speaking, Ruger taps away at a tablet, and just as her little speech draws to a close, the names on the board begin to rearrange themselves. Gasps of surprise and moans of displeasure circulate the room as names begin to fall into place on the list. I hold my breath waiting for Sim’s name to land and release it in a soft whoosh when her name comes up at fifteen, right above Ammo. I scan further down the list to the latest cuts.
Dodge.
Trace.
Figment.
Chance.
Tally.
Prodigy’s name is missing from the list altogether. The list only goes to twenty-five now. Some unidentifiable emotion expands in my chest, pressing on my rib cage, taking up valuable real estate my lungs need to fill with air. I take shallow breaths to compensate.
Those of us still in the program are dismissed for liberty. The five who are cut are kept behind, probably to be ushered away just as cloak and dagger as when we arrived here. I wasn’t close to any of them, even Figment who lived in the same house with me, was on my team. I should feel something about them washing out, but I don’t. Maybe because I know they’re walking out instead of being wheeled out in a body bag.
I’m halfway across the lawn when a soft grip lands on my shoulder, stopping my forward motion. When I turn, Ghost is standing there, all quiet concern. “What happened?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he wants a play by play or is only asking to see what I’ll say.
“I wasn’t there,” I tell him, injecting just enough steel into my voice to let him know that I don’t want to talk about it.
“Do you want to go for a walk with me?” His tone is careful, like he knows how fragile Prodigy’s death has left me.
I consider his question for a moment—torn between walking with him or seeking out Maverick. But I still wouldn’t know what to say to Maverick. I’ve never known anyone who died before. How do you talk about that kind of thing? I opt to go with Ghost instead, but I can’t shake the image of Prodigy cold and lifeless on his bedroom floor. I suspect I’m going to see his ghost everywhere I go inside that house.
We set off down the road, heading the opposite direction from the way we run in the mornings. A little thrill of curiosity tickles my brain. Maybe if we walk far enough, we could find out what’s at the end of the road. Maybe we could find a way out.
What would I do if the way out was this way? Would I run? Would I leave it all behind, let them ruin my life? Would my mother take me back or be angry that I left The Program she so clearly supports? I’m still not sure I’d even want to go back to her.
There are no mile markers on the road in this direction, but I probably wouldn’t count them if there were. The breeze has a crisp quality to it and nips at my nose and cheeks, but it’s not chilly enough to cut through the long sleeves of my shirt or the thin cotton of my pants. I savor the fresh air on my face and stroll along next to Ghost like we’re just two friends out for a leisurely walk.
The houses behind us become dots on a wide field of green, held down by the darker green haze of a forest beyond. Mountains shape the view into something more majestic in the distance and blend into a clear blue sky. The day is entirely too serene, too beautiful for having such an ugly start. Ghost doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care.
“Have you had a chance to get any information on your teammates yet?”
This is why he wanted to walk? I stumble over an invisible rock but quickly right myself. I’ve deluded myself into thinking Ghost invited me on this walk because he was concerned about me after what happened this morning, but all he wants is information about Team Sever.
“Not really,” I answer honestly, but my tone is a few degrees cooler than the crisp, fall air around us.
In my periphery, Ghost turns his head to look at me, but I stare straight ahead. “Are you having second thoughts about our alliance?” He doesn’t sound hurt, just curious.
“No.” It’s the truth. I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I feel good about the fact that he’s basically acting like one of our fellow recruits didn’t die just a few hours ago.
“What’s wrong, then?”
“Nothing.” What is wrong with me? I’m not usually the passive aggressive type. I breathe in a deep lungful of sweet air and release it on a long sigh. “I’m just out of sorts, I guess. And it’s almost like you don’t care about what happened to Prodigy.”
Ghost stops walking. I stop, too, but don’t immediately turn to face him.
“Infinity.”
I turn slowly. Ghost’s hands are out at his sides in an expression of confusion or surprise or shock. Maybe all of the above. “Of course, I care. But, Infinity, you have to realize that there’s still a murder board we need to rank high on.”
Something like anger surges like bile in the back of my throat, and I spew my next words at him with all the venom he doesn’t deserve right now. “Do I, Ghost? Do I have to realize that?”
His eyes widen, and he drops his hands to his sides. “Well, no. You don’t have to do anything. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I take a deep breath and use it to cool the turmoil of emotions I’m laying at Ghost’s feet. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just… this whole thing is so messed up. Why are they out abducting kids to participate in a program that shouldn’t even exist? What if I didn’t want to be some covert government operative or whatever? What if I just wanted to be a normal seventeen-year-old girl, and then a normal college student? And maybe one day, a normal doctor with a normal husband and perfectly normal kids. And a dog.” I’m ranting, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “We’re not even a whole week in, and someone is dead!”
Ghost takes a step forward, closing the distance between us, and sets gentle hands on my shoulders. His touch steadies me, pulls me back from the precipice of my mixed-up emotions.
“Why did God let this happen?” I question, partly to him, partly to God Himself.
Ghost’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “You think God has anything to do with any of this?”
“Doesn’t He?” I need reassurance right now, something to believe in, but I’m getting the distinct impression I will not be getting that from Ghost.
“Dunno. I’m not even sure He’s real.”
That was the exact opposite of what I was looking for.
“I don’t want to die here, Ghost.” I finally say aloud what’s been bothering me most since I set eyes on my fallen fellow recruit. It’s a selfish emotion I didn’t want to give name to, but I have to.
Fear.
If he died here, so could I.
Ghost wraps me in a hug, pressing my face tight to his shoulder, and even though it’s hard to get air through a squished nose pressed against a cotton shirt, the embrace is just what I need. Like somehow being hugged right then is drawing the anxious feelings out of me and leaving peace and serenity in their place.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it affected you this bad,” he whispers into my hair.
“Neither did I.”
“I didn’t mean to be callous about Prodigy. I guess it’s just hard for me to connect with the reality of the situation because I didn’t actually know the kid. I only saw him in the training room. I didn’t live in the same house with him like you did. To me he was… a plastic person.”
“Plastic?” I ask against Ghost’s chest.
“What I mean is, he wasn’t as real to me as he was to you. I feel bad; I really do, but I didn’t know him well enough for what happened to sink deeper than that.”
I suppose his explanation makes sense, though it doesn’t quite sit in my mind the way he probably hoped it would. If it had been someone in his house that committed suicide, would it have affected me the same way?
When Ghost releases me, we don’t say anything else about Prodigy, and we don’t talk about our alliance. In fact, we don’t say much of anything as we head back the way we came. He does wrap an arm around my shoulder, though, and I choose to believe it’s his way of reassuring me that we’re going to get through this, get through The Program, together.