He’s seated at the metal table, waiting.
He wears army greens, and on his chest there is an old, faded patch. A red-and-white-striped rectangle, blue and flecked with stars in the upper left corner. It’s a symbol I’ve seen before, in another pre-Fall thing Talan collected. Some stupid, worn book, but the symbol stood out to me. A flag.
“Welcome to the Outpost,” he says. His hair is salt and pepper gray. It makes him look like he knows a million more things than I ever could. “Please, sit.”
Meadow and Sketch take their seats. I slide in beside them, and we sit in awkward silence until Sketch opens her mouth.
“Who are you?” she asks. “And how do you have access to a place this nice when everyone else is out there in hell?”
The General looks at me when he speaks. “I’m George Jenkins, General of the New US Militia,” he says. He sits straight in his chair, like there’s a pole in his spine. “You three are lucky to be alive. Testing Site Three is not an easy place to survive.”
“That’s what we do,” Meadow speaks up. “We survive. And apparently, that’s what you and your people do, too.” She leans forward, and even though her eyes hold the General’s, I know she’s watching all around us.
She still doesn’t trust this place.
And maybe I shouldn’t either, but it feels good to be somewhere safe. Somewhere that feels safe, at least, with gates and walls and weapons. And food.
“Surviving seems to be all we can do, in today’s world,” the General says.
“That’s true.” Meadow nods. “I survive for my friends, here, and my family. What I’m interested to know, General, is what are you surviving for?”
He smiles, wide. “That’s the question I was hoping you’d ask, Miss Woodson.”
How did he know her name?
Meadow’s hands clench into fists. Her eyes turn to slits. She reaches for the dagger at her hip, but before she can go any farther, the General holds up a hand.
“No need to defend yourself here. I’m merely stating the obvious.” He waves over one of his soldiers.
A man comes over, holding a file of papers. The General takes it, flips through until he finds the one he’s looking for. He sets the paper on the table in front of us, swings it around so we can see it.
My breath hitches. It’s a copy of the article Meadow and I saw back in the Shallows, in the old storage unit that belonged to her mother. I see Lark’s face on the front page, smiling and happy, as she holds a pair of scissors. She’s standing in front of the Perimeter, about to open up the Shallows for the very first time.
“You’re the spitting image of her,” the General says. “Which is why, initially, I was afraid of what your reaction might be, when I tell you that the reason I survive is to stop what your mother started.”
Meadow sits silently, and he goes on.
“Anyone who came from that woman must be sympathetic to her cause. But then I saw that machine attached to your skull. I saw the Xs, tattooed onto the backs of your two companions’ necks. And I wondered, why would Lark Woodson, the Creator of the Eternity Cure, the creator of the Murder Complex and the Shallows, allow her daughter to wear a machine like that? And better yet, why would she let her escape?”
Meadow looks down at her hands. She takes a deep breath, and when she answers, her voice is ice. “Because she’s dead,” she whispers. “And . . . I’m the reason why.”
The General taps his fingers on the table.
“If that’s the truth, child, and I hope it is, then you’re welcome to stay here, and join us, or you may leave in peace. But first, I think we need to share stories. Then we’ll decide if we are on the same side or not.” He taps the paper in front of us. “I’d like to hear your story first, Miss Woodson, if you don’t mind.”
Meadow looks at me, then Sketch. I can see her mind working, see her calculating how much she’ll tell him. Trying to gauge if he can be trusted or not.
Finally, she smiles and nods. “Of course, General,” she says.
Then she leans back, folds her hands into her lap, and begins to tell our story.
CHAPTER 51
MEADOW
My father told me once that we should never share the whole truths of our lives with others.
He said that it was like giving away pieces of our souls, and if we give too many pieces away, we will eventually lose our strength.
Because of him, my entire life has been made up of half-truths and lies.
My mother was not the woman I believed her to be, because my father held a part of the story back. My past, even my own body, was never fully mine to know, because my mother chose not to tell.
Today, I continue their pattern.
I tell the General almost every gritty detail. I tell him about what Zephyr and Sketch are, how they’ve learned to fight the system. I tell him the number of people I have killed to survive, about the Red and Blue trains that run through the Shallows, about the rations job I got, and how Orion was an undercover Resistance member. I explain the truth about my mother, how a part of me smiles when I realize she is dead. How the other part of me wishes she could come back and change things for the better. I tell him about what happened in Headquarters. Sketch shivers when I mention our torture. I tell him about the Motherboard, and how when my mother died, the Patients set off to get revenge on the Initiative, because of my mother’s fail-safe.
I tell him about how my family was stolen away from me. How I am trying to get to the Ridge, so I can rescue them, so we can be together and free on the Outside.
What I hold back is my mother’s secret, and the truth about my mind. About my connection to the Murder Complex. About how the only way to truly kill it in the end, is to kill me. Not many can be trusted in this world, and until I know his story, I won’t give that piece of me away.
I don’t know how long I talk for. Sketch and Zephyr help fill in the blanks, talk about what the Murder Complex did to them, how many countless they killed without the freedom of self-control.
When we’re done speaking, I realize the soldiers have all been listening.
I realize they all look as if they have seen the ghosts of their loved ones, rising from the dead.
The General clears his throat. He motions for one of his soldiers again. This time, a man delivers a small drinking glass and a bottle of amber liquid. The General removes the top, pours a little into the glass, and chugs it down.
I can smell the pungent scent from across the table. I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
“That was quite a story,” he says, as he fills the glass a second time. “And one I know to be true. We’ve been tracking the Initiative’s moves for quite some time now. I’m sorry, for what they’ve done to you. I’m also sorry for what I have to show you next.”
“Well, flux,” Sketch says. She sighs, then reaches forward and takes the bottle of liquid from the General. She throws her head back, chugs from the bottle, and comes up coughing. “Might as well start this now.”
CHAPTER 52
ZEPHYR
“Let’s take a walk,” the General says.
He leads us out of the room, up a few flights of the parking garage, until we’re back at the entrance. The two soldiers from earlier are still standing guard. When they see the General, they stand and raise their hands to their brows in one swift motion. Then they stand still as statues.