When I close my eyes, I see Titus with chains on his fists, and Clipper trying to shield himself with lanky hands. I work over escape possibilities to distract my thoughts, but I need to win over Titus first and foremost, which will be impossible if he refuses to see me. I start worrying that Clipper’s concerns could come to fruition: Titus may dispose of us.
“Sammy?” I call, hoping he can help me brainstorm. “Sammy!”
But he’s snoring ever so lightly.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Jackson says behind me. “We’ll soon be sleeping forever and he felt the need to get one more nap in.”
“Sure, Jackson. It’s downright hilarious.”
“My name. You’re still calling me by my name.”
“We’re on the same team now.”
“Amazing how that happens.” Only he doesn’t sound amazed. He sounds smug, like he knew it would come to this all along.
“Did you know about these people? That they’d be crazy?”
“How could I have known?”
“We climbed the Wall and you said we shouldn’t go into the town. You said it was bad.”
“I knew nothing. I still know nothing.”
I wish I could read his face for lies, but I can only stare ahead from where I sit, in the direction of Sammy’s snores. I wonder how bad Clipper will look when he comes back. I wonder if he’ll come back.
“I have to tell you something,” the Forgery says. “I tried the night we climbed the Wall, but you wouldn’t listen.”
He pauses, like he’s waiting for permission to continue. “Well? What is it?”
“I remember.”
“Remember what?”
“The pieces of my life that have always been foggy, what happened when I turned eighteen. It came back when I saw the Wall. It felt like a dream at first, like something my brain must have conjured up to amuse me, but then we climbed and the truth hit me so hard it was like getting my wind knocked out.”
He takes a deep breath and I’m worried that if I say anything he won’t continue, so I sit in silence, afraid to break the spell.
“There are things I’ve always known, like how hot it was where I grew up. We didn’t have winters like this, but we did have a Wall. And you couldn’t cross it. If you did, you died. Dextern. That was my home. It was named after someone important before my time, but he went missing. They all went missing at eighteen, the boys. I had two brothers: one older, one younger. The first one left me and then I left the youngest. Something took me.” A short pause. “And here’s what I never used to be able to remember but now can: lights. Blinding lights. And wind, raging, like I was caught in a storm. Then a room and a cold slab of metal beneath my back and faces overhead that wore white masks covering their mouths and noses. I fell asleep and almost immediately I was waking up again, only it felt like I was waking up for the very first time, like every moment beforehand had been a dream.
“It makes sense now, the way it’s all coming together. It’s like I was trying to braid with two strands and only just found the third. I think I know what it means, but I want to hear you say it.” He’s quiet for a moment and then asks, “What happened to me, Gray?”
“Nothing happened to you. It happened to Jackson.”
“But I’m Jackson.”
“You’re a Forgery named Jackson. There’s a difference.”
Harvey once explained that a Forgery is a perfect replica of a Heisted boy. They have all the same appearances and mannerisms and even memories. It’s the software integrated with their minds that keeps them acting on Frank’s orders despite what he’s done to them. The code Harvey wrote is so powerful, it can override free will, convince a Forgery to block out certain thoughts and act in a way they wouldn’t if their minds were unburdened. It could make them forget their Heist, for instance, as well as the moments following it.
But Jackson . . .
Maybe the Wall triggered something. Seeing it could have been too personal. Climbing it might have pushed him over the edge, caused some glitch in his internal software. His mind could now be processing things beyond what his programming intended. Or maybe he’s making it all up. I worry I’ll never be able to figure him out, separate his truths from his lies.
“Frank—the person who sent me to tail your group,” Jackson says. “He is the person who put me behind the Wall in Dextern. He’s the Order and the Reaper. That’s what I can see now. They are one and the same.”
“Yes,” I say, even though he didn’t ask for confirmation. There is a mangled noise, like Jackson is sobbing into the folds of his shirt. “Are you crying?” I ask. The act should be impossible for a Forgery.
“No,” he says. “But it hurts.”
“Welcome to the Laicos Project, Jackson. He hurt a lot of people: me, Bree, Xavier, my father. He hurt them all to build people like you.”
“It’s not the truth that hurts,” he says. “It’s a question I have. I only recently started thinking it, but every time it wanders into my head I feel like my skull is about to crack under the weight of it all. It is the worst headache I’ve ever had. It makes me want to die.”
“Must be one heck of a question.”
He exhales quickly, like breathing hurts. “I keep . . . I keep asking myself if you’re really the enemy. I wonder if maybe . . .” He pauses, choking on his own words. “I keep asking myself if I should help you.”
The metal vat between us vibrates as Jackson collapses against it. I listen to him shudder, wheeze, cough in pain.
I wonder what it means.
And then, I wonder if it’s all a lie.
When Clipper returns, he looks fine. Shaken, but fine.
“What did Titus want?”
“He wanted to know why I’m here,” the boy says. “Because I’m so much younger than the rest of you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth. That I’m the technical lead. That I was supposed to get this place up and running again, fix the cameras with looped footage. He seemed interested in that. Brought me to the Room of Whistles and Whirs and made me put my ear against the doorway. Asked me what was on the other side.”
“And?”
“It could be exactly what we’re looking for: a control room with access to the camera feeds. I’m actually wondering if there are generators in there, too, and if that’s all the Tolling is—the people of Burg hearing them kick on and off.”
“But why would they need generators?” Sammy asks, finally awake. “There’s nothing powered here.”
“Except the cameras,” I say.
“Titus wants me to open it,” Clipper says after a brief pause. “The door.”
“Maybe I can strike a deal with him. Our freedom for the door. If I can arrange that, can you open it, Clipper?”
“I have to try. If that room’s holding what I think it is, getting inside means we might be able to salvage the mission after all. Might even be able to get Titus on our side, too.”
“What will you need?”
“There was a panel near the door, probably for an access code. I need my gear, but tell Titus I’m after tools.”
“What kind of tools?” I ask.
“Make something up. Copper wiring. Alcohol from the hospital. I don’t care. Anything that will get you aboveground to search for it.”
“And why do I want to go aboveground?”
“Because I stashed my pack before they grabbed us the other night. It’s under the gallows. There’s a loose board at the base. You get the pack and I can put us in touch with Xavier again. Just as a backup. In case this door thing doesn’t work out.”
“Clipper, you’re a genius.”
I wish he could see me in the darkness, because I’m smiling. For the first time in days.