How long did it take Carly to get down here?
It feels like we’ve been battling the Drau for hours and hours. But Carly’s acting like I just ran down here moments ago.
There’s a sound behind me. Running footsteps.
I turn my head, my torso, looking back over my shoulder. The movement takes an eternity.
The green-eyed girl’s gone. Jackson’s halfway up the hall, running after her.
Again, the sensation that time is distorting hits me. The hallway must be as long as three football fields for him to still be running.
“Miki! Come on!” Carly yells.
I turn back toward her.
Light flares behind her.
Light shaped in human form.
A red flower blossoms on the yellow spandex of her suit, just below the Dijon mustard label she has tacked to the cloth.
Her eyes widen. Her brows rise. Her mouth forms a round O.
She looks confused, startled. Afraid.
The moment hangs suspended.
She doesn’t drop to the ground. It’s more of a long, slow crumple, like a coat sliding off a hanger.
Or a final exhalation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I’M MOVING BEFORE I REALIZE THAT THE HORRIBLE, HOWLING sound is coming from me.
My arm lifts. My sword’s above my head, point back, blade up. I run at the Drau, swinging with all my might. As I connect, there’s a tug of resistance, like I’m separating a chicken leg from the thigh. Then the Drau’s head flies up, up, its body dropping like a sack, its head splatting on the ground to one side. A spray of dark blood marks the wall, the floor. Me.
I toss the sword. It clatters across the floor in one direction as I fall to my knees and skid in the other, coming to rest at Carly’s side.
She’s not moving. She lies there, a broken doll in bright yellow spandex and a cheery yellow wig.
“Carly,” I scream. “Nonononononono.” I take hold of her shoulder, shake her.
There’s sound of footsteps pounding behind me. I twist at the waist, my weapon cylinder in hand, my will gathering to annihilate whatever’s coming.
It’s Jackson.
With a cry, I drop my weapon. I have the split-second thought that he didn’t go after the girl, the green-eyed girl. The girl who looks like Lizzie.
He came to me.
“Check her pulse,” he says, lips taut, his whole body humming with tension as he drops to his knees on Carly’s other side.
Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision, my hands shaking so hard I can barely rest my fingers against her throat, never mind find her pulse.
“I’ll do it,” Jackson says. He grabs my wrist to move my hand out of the way and puts his fingers flat on her neck.
Carly’s face is gray white, her eyes closed, red blood pooling on the floor beneath her. I splay my hand over her belly, put pressure on her wound. Her blood leaks through my fingers.
Jackson holds his fingers on her pulse for what feels like an eternity. Then he leans over and rests his ear on her chest.
I wait, my heart slamming against my ribs. One second spins into forever.
Pleasepleasepleaseplease.
Jackson rears back, his shoulders sagging, his head bowed.
“No!” I fling myself on Carly, my ear pressed over her heart. I hear nothing. Nothing at all. And her chest isn’t moving, not even a little. She isn’t breathing.
I tip her head back and try to breathe for her.
Jackson layers his hands and starts chest compressions like he’s done this before—one more thing I didn’t know about him. Blood spurts from the wound in an arc. Every time he presses, she bleeds.
“Stop,” I say, tears choking me. “We’re killing her.”
But we’re not. She’s already dead.
I jerk back, grab her shoulders, shake her. “Carly!” I scream. “Carly!” I can’t breathe. I can’t think. This is my fault. She came down here for me. To save me. She didn’t even know what she was trying to save me from. “Carly!”
“Call 911!” I yell at Jackson. “Call 911! Call them. Call—” He doesn’t reach for his phone. Doesn’t move. Because we can’t call anyone, not while we’re in the game.
I swipe the tears from my cheeks, then look at my hands. Red. Blood. Carly’s blood. The whole front of her yellow spandex bodysuit is dark with it.
Luka’s shouting from the room up the hall where we left him. He’s asking what’s going on. Yelling Carly’s name. Jackson’s. Mine.
I’m dying. My soul is dying. Because Carly’s gone. She can’t be gone.
“Fix it!” I scream at Jackson. “Fix it!”
But he can’t fix it. No one can.
I did this. I killed my best friend.
I should have stayed with her. Should have made sure she got out. Should have defended her against the Drau invasion.
That’s the whole reason I’m in the game. To keep my world safe.
I failed. I failed.
“Jackson,” I sob, crumpling onto Carly’s chest.
“Get off her, Miki,” Jackson says, icy and calm. His tone’s enough to grab my attention. I look up as he pulls his glasses off.
“What are you doing?”
“Get up.”
I do, obeying the rigid expectation in his tone, sitting back on my heels, my whole body trembling.
I’m on one side of Carly and he’s on the other. His gaze meets mine, his eyes Drau gray, swirling, endless, mercury bright. So beautiful. I can’t look away.
But he looks away, hunching over Carly, his hands on her cheeks.
For a second, I just stare at him, bewildered and numb.
“What are you doing?” I grab his arm, confusion bleeding into wariness.
He doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t shake me off. But the tension in his muscles ramps up as he says, “Seeing if it works both ways.”
I stare at his bowed head. Then I gasp in horror as I get what he means. He’s going to bring Carly back. He’s going to do what he did with Lizzie, with me, only in the opposite direction. Give electrical energy instead of take.
I stare at the top of his head. His thumbs slide to Carly’s eyelids, resting there for a second.
“What—”
“If I can keep her alive until we jump, maybe she’ll be okay when we respawn. Maybe she’ll still be alive.”
He’ll save her the way we saved him.
And he’ll pay the price.
“You can’t.” My fingers curl tighter, digging into his arm. “I can’t let you.”
He cuts me a glance. “My choice, Miki. Not yours.”
“They’ll kill you. The Committee. They won’t allow this.”
He lifts his head and his lips shape a dark, predatory smile. “Let them try.”
They won’t need to try very hard. They’re the Committee. They bend time, shift us between realities. He’s no match for them. The thought makes agony burst inside me like a broken pipe.
“I can’t lose you, too. And I will if you even try this. The Committee will take you. Kill you. This time there will be no reprieve. You’ll be dead. And if what you try here doesn’t work, Carly will still be dead. You’ll both be gone.”
I can’t lose them both.
“Then I better make certain this works.”
Jackson lifts Carly’s eyelids so she’s staring, sightless, at the ceiling.
I’m torn, sick, horrified, terrified. I can’t let him do this.
I can’t not let him do it.
Luka’s still yelling at us to tell him what’s going on. There’s a scraping sound, like he’s dragging himself across the floor.
“Jackson,” I whisper.
Please don’t do this.
Please do it.
Save her.
Save yourself.
“You—” I choke on my words, feeling like my insides are being shredded.