“And how will you explain the Regulator?” the General asks.
Meadow doesn’t skip a beat. “I’ll tell them you did it. The New Militia will do anything to break down the Initiative, right?”
He nods, lost in her plan.
“Just get me close to the Ridge, and I’ll find a way inside. I’ll find my family, and once I’m free again, I’ll swear my service to the New Militia. For the rest of my life, I’ll be your greatest soldier.”
“Meadow, no,” I hiss.
“Like hell you will,” Sketch yells. “We just got free!”
Meadow glares at us with such intensity that we both shut our mouths. “I wasn’t asking you for help. You’re free now. You two can do what you want.”
“I’m sticking with you, Woodson,” Sketch says. She looks at me like she’s ready to punch me. Our stupid little game.
“I’m with you, too, Meadow. I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it. But don’t do it like this,” I say. “We’ll find another way. Don’t trade your freedom, not when you just got it.”
She looks down at her hands. “I was never free.”
The General rubs his hands over his jaw, breathes deeply as he thinks.
Meadow looks up. “You said your reason for survival was to stop what my mother started. Let me help you do that.”
They stand together and move off to the side, talking in hushed voices. I don’t have to hear what they’re saying to know what is going on.
The General is falling right into Meadow’s hands.
CHAPTER 55
MEADOW
We eat a full meal tonight.
The New Militia has canned food, something I have never seen before the Outpost. We eat beans, and peas, and a soft orange fruit that explodes with flavor when it touches my tongue.
Afterward, we sit around the table and discuss.
I tell the General we only need seventy-two hours, starting the moment we make it inside the Ridge. We plan together in private.
We argue over whose plan is best, but I will not back down.
Finally, the General agrees to go with my ideas, and the plan is in place.
Tomorrow, I will become my mother. Tomorrow, I will be the woman who ruined me. The woman who broke the world. I will hand my freedom over to the New Militia. I will become the soldier my father always trained me to be.
But for tonight, I want to be free. One final time, I want to grasp the illusion. I want to feel the freedom my father once felt.
I want to feel the wind on my face. I want to run.
Everyone is asleep, scattered about the Outpost. Sketch snores from the couch, and Zephyr is curled up on the floor in front of her. Curtains are drawn around all the cots, and no one will be awake to stop me.
I tuck my dagger into my waistband. I tighten the laces on the new boots I have and leave everyone behind.
The walk up the levels of the garage is exhausting. Weeks ago, I would have been able to sprint these concrete floors, breathing evenly, without breaking a sweat.
Tonight I stumble.
My nose drips blood.
I wipe it away and force myself to keep going, to forget about the pain in my skull, the weight of the Regulator against my neck. I persevere the way that I always have, and finally, I make it to the top.
The guards won’t let me leave, so I take the staircase again, the one that leads to the roof.
I am only halfway up the second floor when I fall.
My knees crack hard on the staircase, drip with blood. I try to stand but I’m too weak. My head spins, and the world flickers in and out of focus. This isn’t right.
This isn’t supposed to be happening. But it is.
My mother said that it would.
I bang the back of my head against the wall.
The Regulator’s thick metal rings from the impact, but it does not crack.
I bang my head again, and again, and I lose myself to the fury. To the hatred I feel for myself, for getting caught. For not being able to die in the Resistance Headquarters.
For getting my mother killed by drawing her out of hiding. For the pain that Peri felt, because of me. For dragging Zephyr and Sketch along, when they deserve to be free. Away from me, away from my selfishness.
You are just like me, my mother’s voice says. I want her to be wrong.
But I think she is right.
Suddenly I’m furious at myself for caring about my mother’s death. She was a monster, inside and out, and she will always be.
But I could never forget the way she whispered my name. Forgive me.
She was my mother, and I will always love her.
Love makes us weak.
I tear at the Regulator with my fingernails. I draw blood but I don’t stop. I want it out. I want to be strong again.
I want to die.
I want to survive.
It’s only when I feel hands on mine, gently pulling my fingers from the Regulator, that I notice Zephyr.
He kneels in front of me, soft green eyes watching mine.
“Meadow,” he whispers. He says it like a song, and his eyes are so gentle, so . . .
My head spins. I slump over, and he catches me, wraps his strong arms around my waist. He pulls me up, holds me like I’m a child.
I both hate it and love it at the same time. He smiles down at me sadly, the way I used to look at Peri, when I knew she was weak, when I knew she wouldn’t be able to fight back against the darkness of our world.
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asks, as he carries me back down the stairs.
“Like I’m weak,” I say.
He stops. “You think . . . Stars, Meadow. It’s not because I think you’re weak. It’s because you’ve been through so much, and you still want to fight. You still won’t give up.” He leans his head down, looks at me closer. “Why won’t you just give up?”
“Because I can’t,” I simply say. “Because giving up is not something I know how to do.”
We reach the first flight of stairs. He starts to head down, carrying me, but I stop him.
“I don’t want to go back in there,” I say. “I wanted to go outside. I wanted to be free, for one last time. To make my own choices.”
“You can still change your mind,” Zephyr says. “You don’t have to do this.”
I swallow and taste blood. “You know I do. I’ll fight for my family, even if it kills me. And I can’t ask you to go with me. I’ve taken advantage of your help, expected you to always be at my side. But you’re free, Zephyr. Why won’t you just go?”
He sighs. He sets me down.
“I can’t go, Meadow.”
“Yes, you can. And you should,” I say.
He stares at his boots. “It’s like you’re hardwired into me, Meadow. I think about you when I’m awake. I dream about you when I’m asleep. My brain was obsessed about you for years because of Sparrow, and the system, and the need, deep down, to murder you.” He laughs, but the sound is hollow. “And then I met you in real life, and I realized it wasn’t an obsession. It was just . . . you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You’re stubborn, and you’re always angry, and you like killing, I can see it in your eyes. I have a theory that you’re one of the worst people in the world,” he says. I turn my face away, but he reaches up and gently touches my chin. “But that’s what I love about you. It sounds crazy. You make me stronger. You make me laugh, and most of the time, you make me so mad I want to scream. But that’s just it. You make me feel things, Meadow. Real things, not just fabrications programmed into me in your mother’s lab. You’re real. We are real. There’s something here. And I refuse to let that go.”