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Becky was real. She had to be.

Chapter Twenty-six

B
ecky leaned back in her overstuffed chair and giggled softly.

“My grandma was great,” she said. “And she would have
hated
you.”

I put up my hands in mock protest. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I told you—I grew up on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. She didn’t trust anyone from the city. You’re all liars and criminals. She used to keep a rifle by the front door in case any of your kind came around.”

“Oh yeah?” I laughed. “Well, in Pittsburgh we think people on ranches are hillbillies.”

Becky stuck out her tongue.

“Hang on,” she said, reaching for the back pocket of her jeans. “Someone’s paging me.”

“You brought your pager to a gang war?” I asked as she pulled the minicomputer from her pocket and opened it.

“Habit,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “I’m always on call.” She paused, reading whatever message had come through on her computer.

“Yours is networked?” I asked.

“It has to be so it can page me,” she murmured. “A lot of . . .”

I watched as the color drained from her face. She glanced at me, terror in her eyes, and then back at the screen.

I jumped from my chair to read over her shoulder.

“They’ve given the security contract back to Isaiah,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “They’re supposed to send you and Rosa to detention and lock down the school. Martial law.”

Her eyes met mine.

“This is the school’s answer?”

“He won’t do it,” Becky said, but her eyes betrayed her. She knew he would.

I stood up. “What’s he going to do first? He’ll have to get everyone together, right?”

She looked panicked. “Yeah, he’ll get them together.” She grabbed my arm. “But he knows that I’ve been with you all day. He’s not going to waste any time.”

“We have to get everyone out. Now. We have to escape right now.”

Becky nodded, swallowing hard. She was trembling. “I’ll—I’ll go to the girls’ dorm and warn Rosa. They don’t know that I’m not in the Society anymore.”

“What if they do?”

“Then I’ll hurry.” She took a step toward the door and then turned back. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ve got to get Curtis,” I said, “and Oakland.”

“You can’t go in there. Even if they’re not organized yet.”

“I’ll hurry, too.”

We stared at each other for a moment.
We don’t have time.

“You have the radio,” I said, and then turned and ran.

I was charging into a hornet’s nest, and there was nothing I could do about it. Maxfield Academy had declared war on me and I was going to fight back.

Cracking open the door to the dorm, I peered inside. I couldn’t see anyone, but people were definitely down there. There was the sound of a video game, the smell of microwave popcorn.

I stepped in, holding the doorknob so it wouldn’t make any noise as it closed. I crept silently down the hall, keeping my feet close to the wall to avoid creaking. I don’t know why that worked, but I’d been doing it for years to sneak out of my foster homes.

I moved quickly, getting to the junction that led to both Havoc and the Society. Noise came from both sides. For the first time since I’d gotten to the school, I wished I was wearing the school uniform. Everyone in the school had to know my black and yellow sweatshirt by now.

I paused, leaning into the wall, knowing that if I was spotted I could be hauled down to detention. Or just killed on the spot. No one would have been surprised.

But there was no sense in waiting. I couldn’t tell what was going on around the corner of the hallway.

They must have been able to hear my heartbeat anyway.

Running the rest of the way, I reached Curtis’s door. It was locked, and I knocked on it as quietly as I could. He was probably asleep.

I glanced back down the hall. No one was following me yet.

I knocked again, harder this time.

“What?” Curtis shouted from inside. A moment later he appeared at the door.

I held my finger to my lips.

“Isaiah’s coming,” I whispered. “I was with Becky and she got the message on—”

Curtis’s eyes latched on to something down the hall, and I turned to see. One of Isaiah’s thugs was watching. He disappeared as soon as our eyes met.

“Damn it,” I said, turning back to Curtis. “The school put him back in charge. They’re supposed to haul Rosa and me to detention. Becky called it martial law.”

Curtis moved faster than I expected, grabbing his shoes and yanking them on. “You get the V’s, I’ll find Oakland.”

“’Kay.”

“And, Benson,” he said. “They outnumber us. Get out of here, fast.”

I opened my room, shouting to Mason to get off his bed, and then ran back to the hall. I knocked on every door. There was more noise down the hall now, and we were in a dead end. And the Society had all their security gear.

Some of the guys jumped to follow us, but not all of them. A couple didn’t believe me, and no one seemed to think it was as urgent as I did. But they weren’t marked for detention.

The radio squawked—it was loud, and I snatched it from my pocket to quiet it down.

“Benson,” Becky said, her voice tin and staticky. “They’ve got her already.”

“What?”

“Rosa’s gone,” she said, “and all the Society girls. They were gone before I got here.”

“How could that happen?”

I turned and looked at the other V’s, who were straining to hear Becky’s words.

“I don’t know,” she said. “They must have gotten the message before I did.”

My stomach dropped. Of course. They watched us on the cameras. They knew that Becky was with me—that she was lost to the Society. They’d done this to split us up. We were trapped.

“Get out,” I shouted into the radio. “Go now.”

Isaiah turned the corner, a dozen guys behind him. “She won’t get far,” he said. “The doors are all secured.”

There were only seven V’s here—five of us in the hall and two still in their rooms. Curtis was down with Havoc. Maybe he could find help there, but we were backed into a corner. Isaiah’s hands were empty, but the rest of the guys were all armed. Three of them had the long metal rods that I’d seen Laura holding out in the forest, and others had knives and clubs.

“What is wrong with you guys?” I screamed. “Didn’t you see what the rest of us saw?”

“Jane and Dylan are androids,” Isaiah said simply. “So what? How is the school that much worse of a place? So the school lied to us—since when have they told us the truth? Are the androids killing us? No. They’re just normal students.”

Mason stepped forward. “What about Dylan?”

Isaiah’s expression was smug and confident. “Dylan killed another android, not a human. Not one of us. The school isn’t trying to kill anyone. You’re the problems.”

I stepped in front of the other guys. “Then get out of our way and we won’t be a problem anymore.”

“I can’t do that,” he said. “Now listen. Benson needs to go to detention. Anyone who tries to prevent that will also be taken to detention. Choose now.”

Something slid across the floor, past my feet and toward the Society.

A paintball grenade.

Isaiah looked up at me, smirking. “Seriously?”

I turned away just in time, before the hiss of compressed air.

The Society erupted in chaos as the stench of pepper and alcohol filled the narrow hall. Paintballs were flying over my head and people were screaming—Hector and Joel had jumped out of their rooms and were firing paint at the Society’s unprotected faces.

“Run,” I shouted, and the seven of us charged past our scattering attackers, covering our noses and mouths.

Hector hurled another of my pepper spray grenades down the Society’s corridor as we passed. Curtis joined us, followed by a handful of Havoc guys. Oakland was with him.

“Where is everyone else?” I shouted.

“Not coming.”

We hit the door, only to find it locked, and our chips wouldn’t open it.

“Get back,” Curtis ordered, and then kicked. It held firm.

He kicked again, his foot hitting right next to the doorknob. There was a splintering sound.

“Come on, Hector,” he said. “One, two, three—”

They both kicked, and the door flung wide open with a sharp crack.

There were thirteen of us—eight V’s and five from Havoc—and we charged down the stairs. We were completely outnumbered and outgunned. The doors were locked and we didn’t have any supplies to hike out, if we could even get over the wall.

I called Becky on the radio while we ran. “Where are you?”

There was no answer.

“Becky,” I shouted. “Where are you?”

“Basement,” Curtis said, breathing heavily. “If they’re trying to save Rosa, they’ll be in the basement.”

We hit the first-floor foyer. A few students—Havoc girls—stood against the wall, watching, and Oakland barked at them to follow us. The polished marble was slick, and I slid as I rounded the corner, running for the stairwell to the basement.

“There are three different ways down,” Curtis said. “We won’t get cornered.”

I knew that was optimistic. They’d have the high ground, and whether they were armed with paintball guns or pepper spray or just clubs, it would be a nightmare getting out.

We skidded around another corner, ready to jump down the stairs, only to find the girls standing at the top.

Becky was seething, her eyes red but dry. “She’s gone. We were too late.”

“What?”

Carrie ran forward and grabbed Curtis in a hug.

“What can we do?” I asked. We’d failed.

“Nothing,” Becky said. “There’s no button like on an elevator. You just put her in, and the school takes her. The room is empty.”

Everyone stood, stunned and silent. Only the distant sound of the pursuing Society guys shook us back to life.

“Where are Isaiah’s girls?” Oakland asked.

“Still down there,” Gabby answered. There were a few Havoc girls here, but Mouse wasn’t one of them. She must not have come.

“We need to go,” Curtis said. “Now.”

“Where are we going?” Anna asked, obviously frightened.

“Over the wall,” he said. “And if you don’t want to, go now. We don’t have time to debate.”

Curtis began running, and we followed. The doors were locked—we knew that—so now we just needed to find the easiest one to break. Curtis seemed to have the same idea I had. He ran for the back of the school, to the door that had been broken earlier that morning.

Isaiah was there ahead of us, his group of thugs spread to each side. They were all splattered with paint on their chests and face, and one had blood dripping from his swollen eye.

There was nothing smug about Isaiah now, who had a massive welt of his own on the side of his neck. His face was red and splotchy, his eyes still watering from the pepper spray.

“Let us out,” I said. “What does it hurt you?”

“What does it hurt me?” he yelled. He was shouting at the group, fiery and animated. “What were things like before Benson showed up? We had parties and dances and went to class. These robots didn’t change that. It was Benson!”

I felt a hand slip into mine. Becky.

“We can go back to that,” Isaiah bellowed, “or you can die. Those are your only choices. Because make no mistake: If you cross that wall, you’re dead. And it has nothing to do with me.”

Oakland stepped forward, and I noticed for the first time that he was holding a long knife—at least twelve inches. It looked like a machete but had to have come from the kitchen.

Isaiah’s eyes were growing increasingly wild. “It’s all about cost and benefit with you people, isn’t it?” he shouted. “You know that some of you will die, but it’s worth it because some are going to live. That’s a stupid, selfish idea. You all plan to be the ones who live. It’s easy to write off the others, because you tell yourself that it won’t be you.”

“You could come with us,” Curtis said, trying to stay calm.

“Or I could stay right here and live!”

I glanced behind us. The Society girls were back there, and they were armed, too.

“Or,” Isaiah screeched, “maybe cost and benefit is the way to go.” From the back of his pants he whipped out a pistol.

A .38, semiautomatic.

“How many of you do I need to shoot to stop you from leaving? It’ll be fewer than will die out there.”

The hall was dead silent. Finally Curtis spoke. “Where did you get the gun, Isaiah?”

Isaiah swung the pistol around and pointed it at Curtis. “How many V’s have died, Curtis? It seems to happen every week.” He aimed now at Oakland. “How many in Havoc?”

Oakland snarled. “You don’t scare me.”

“That’s the problem!” Isaiah screamed. “You’re staring down the barrel of a gun and you’re not scared! That’s why you idiots get killed. The Society doesn’t get sent to detention. And we don’t die in the forest.”

Curtis took a step forward. “Give me the gun, Isaiah.”

Isaiah stared back. Sweat was dripping down his face.

“No.” He pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed in slow motion, sounding like a thunderclap in the marble hallway. Curtis fell to one knee, clutching his hip, and then slid all the way down to the floor.

Carrie screamed, leaping forward, and then dozens of voices exploded.

Isaiah simply stood there, his arm still outstretched, staring at the growing puddle of blood forming around Curtis. He didn’t move as the thugs behind him slowly moved away. And he didn’t move as Oakland stepped forward and took the pistol from his hand.

Chapter Twenty-seven

W
e ventured outside slowly and somberly, nearly silent as we crossed the lawn—more than fifty of us now. The sky was growing dark, and puffs of frozen breath rose above us as we moved.

A deer stood on the edge of the woods.

We left Isaiah tied to a radiator, but the dozen or so staunch Society members who stayed with him were probably already untying him.

Not everyone who was with us was armed, either. It was more about time than trust. We only had so many tools from maintenance and groundskeeping. I was carrying my paintball gun and a three-pronged rake. Becky held a pair of pruning shears.

Curtis was nearly unconscious, his arms around two other guys as he hobbled along on his good leg. The bullet passed through his upper thigh—it looked like a clean hole—but he’d lost a lot of blood. Carrie followed right behind. We wanted to take Curtis on the back of a four-wheeler, but none of them would start. One of the Society’s former guards said that they only ever started for certain people—people Isaiah designated.

Despite his condition, Curtis had the pistol. The wound had proven one thing all too plainly to everyone who tried to help him. He was human. They’d seen inches of bloodied muscle and the white of his femur. He was the only one out of all of us who could prove he wasn’t a robot.

I worried he wouldn’t make it. We had hardly any medical supplies and no expertise to apply them. He was bandaged and given pain meds, and that was it. We didn’t even have any antibiotics. I’d heard that Anna had rubbed hand sanitizer onto the wound.

We stared into the forest around us, watching for signs of trouble. It could come from anywhere in that dark forest. It could even come from the middle of our group, if anyone else turned out to be a robot. Would they have a gun, like Isaiah?

Becky held a small battery-powered reading light, but it only lit up the ground directly in front of us.

“What are you going to do?” Becky asked. “You know, when we get away.”

Her voice sounded timid and nervous. I actually missed the confidence of the tour guide.

“I don’t know,” I said. “College. Do you think our credits will transfer from here?” I grinned at her and she smiled back.

“I think I might write a book about this place,” she said.

“I didn’t know you were a writer.”

“I’m not really. Just my journal. I brought it, you know. So we can tell people what happened here.”

“Well, maybe we’ll all go on
Oprah
,” I said.

She laughed softly, and rolled her eyes. “That’s always been my dream.”

Oakland and Mouse were leading the group. I wasn’t sure why they chose the direction they did, but I supposed it was mostly guesswork anyway. After a lot of arguing we’d decided not to go to the culvert or the front gate—both of those seemed too obvious for escape, and we needed all the luck we could get.

We weren’t moving directly opposite of the place with campfires, but we certainly weren’t close.

“You were outside the wall a lot more recently than I was,” Mason said, moving up next to me. He was using the mattock as a walking stick. “How far is it between that and the fence?”

“I don’t know. Maybe half a mile? It’s just more forest in between.”

“That’s where I’d be if I were them,” he said. “Wait for us to get over the wall and then come after us. We’ll be trapped.”

“There’s still room to run,” I said, trying to be optimistic.

Becky held the shears at her side, but she looked uncomfortable with them. Not like Mason who had the heavy pipe wrench tight in his grip and his paintball gun slung over his shoulder. He was eager for a fight.

We were deep into the woods now, passing the first paintball field I’d played on, back when Havoc had ambushed me. It felt weird to be following Oakland’s lead.

I looked back at Curtis, who was still hobbling along. He was at the back of the group, but seemed to be keeping up fairly well.

Becky’s hand gently gripped my arm.

“Look,” she whispered.

I turned and gazed out into the forest where she was pointing. The deer was there, walking alongside us, about thirty yards away.

“It’s been following us for a few minutes now,” she said. “It’s awfully tame.”

I bent down and picked up a stone, and then threw it at the deer. It bounced off a tree only inches from the animal, but there was no reaction.

“What’d you do that for?” Mason asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that deer is real.”

Becky frowned and then picked up and threw a stone of her own. I lost sight of it in the dark, though it clattered loudly on something hard.

The deer didn’t change its course at all.

Becky’s eyes met mine. “I don’t like that.”

“We made it!” someone shouted up ahead.

They’d reached the wall, a wide black line cutting through the dim gray forest. As far as I could see, there weren’t any security cameras nearby. Unless that’s what the deer was. I’d seen plenty of animals in the woods.

Oakland called Mason up to the front, and they unloaded all of the extension cords from his pack. There were three big ones—fifty-foot heavy orange cords from the maintenance room—and half a dozen twelve-foot cords we’d taken from various lamps around the building.

Hector climbed up into a tall skinny pine, carrying one of the heavy cords over his shoulder. The tree looked sickly, its needles rust colored and dry. When he got about thirty feet up, he tied the cords off and then scrambled back to the ground.

“Okay,” Oakland barked. “Let’s get this first one down.” He pointed to several of the older, stronger students, including me, and we all grabbed the cord dangling out of the first tree. I wasn’t going to be much help—after breaking into the steel door early that morning, the pain in my injured arm was strong and sharp. Even so, I took my place on the cord.

“Let’s rock it back and forth,” he said. “When it starts to break, get out of the way.”

On Oakland’s count, we tugged, the tree swaying a little bit toward us. We let it swing back the other way.

“Pull,” he shouted, as the tree naturally swung back in our direction. We yanked harder this time, pulling it farther and building more momentum. Then we let it swing toward the forest, away from the wall.

As we repeated this, over and over, I couldn’t help but think of that first day in the school when I’d tried the same thing, except stupidly doing it from up in the tree. Three members of the Society had been there that night. Two of them were now dead. Well, one was dead and one was turned off and plugged into the wall. The third, a kid I still didn’t really know, was now standing behind me on the cord, pulling with us.

The tree was swaying wildly now, back and forth, back and forth. With each bend toward the wall we pulled harder, until finally it roared with a thunderous crack. We scattered and the old tree collapsed, smashing into the wall.

As the dust settled, we could see the trunk leaning over the wall, a decent, if wobbly, bridge for climbing up to the top of the twelve feet of brick. We’d knock down another tree next to it and lash the two together.

“Hey,” Mason said, moving toward the fallen tree. “The wall’s leaning.”

Sure enough, we could see that the white lines of mortar were no longer straight, but curved and bowed around the impact of the pine.

I noticed another weird thing about the wall—a fat raccoon, perched up on it, fifty feet away. If that had been a real raccoon, it would have run the instant the wall shook.

Oakland’s voice shook me back to our task. “Let’s get the next one,” he shouted.

I nodded, staring at the raccoon for another few seconds. I’d seen the raccoon before, too.

Becky was also looking at the animal. Her eyes met mine. Tingles of panic were forming in my stomach, but I forced myself to turn back to the trees. There was too much to do.

We repeated the process, rocking a second tree—this one slightly thicker and with more branches—until it popped and fell. Unfortunately, our excitement at knocking the wall down was short-lived. The trunk hit the brick, continuing to bend the wall back, but it didn’t collapse.

“We could take down a third one,” someone suggested.

I looked at my watch. We’d already been working on the trees for almost half an hour. It was completely dark now, the only light coming from the glow of the low cold clouds.

Oakland gazed back at the other possible trees, including a big one that would easily crush the wall—if our cords could actually get it down without snapping. It was healthier than the two we’d felled.

“No,” he finally said. “Let’s get ’em stable and start going over.”

We rolled the second tree along the wall toward the first. We only had to move it about eight feet, but it was almost impossible, and I was no use at all with my bad arm. Pushing with my palms hurt far worse than pulling on the cords. It took at least ten minutes to roll it into position, and by the time we’d tied the two trunks together it seemed to have dropped another fifteen degrees.

Hector climbed to the top of the wall, carrying the third extension cord with him. He paused at the top and then turned back, worry on his face.

“There are animals over here,” he said, confused and nervous.

Oakland asked what he meant, but I immediately climbed up the logs to see for myself. Hector and I stood shoulder to shoulder on the top of the wall. Below us were a dozen animals—more raccoons and deer, and a hodgepodge of others: foxes, marmots, jackrabbits, and a porcupine. They waited around the wall, silent and still.

Beyond them was more forest.

“What the hell is this?” Hector breathed.

I pulled my paintball gun off my shoulder and fired three quick shots into the rabbit’s face, which knocked it back in an awkward jump. But it didn’t run. In the low light I couldn’t see if any damage had been done, but it was once again staring at us.

People behind us were screaming for answers, and Hector told them what was happening while I shot at a deer. I aimed for the eyes, trying to break whatever cameras were in there, but the deer hardly moved at all.

“Do they look like they’re going to attack?” Oakland asked, obviously annoyed.

“I don’t know,” I said over my shoulder. “What could a marmot do?”

I kept my eyes on the animals while I listened to the murmurs below. These robots looked for all the world like real animals except they were completely motionless.

“Okay,” Oakland shouted to the group. “Let’s get over this thing. Jump if you can—it’ll be faster—but don’t be an idiot and break your ankle. We ain’t carrying you.”

“What about the robots?” someone shouted.

“Hit ’em if they get close,” he answered. “That’s why we’re armed.”

Hector tied the cord to a thick branch of the fallen tree, and then took a deep breath and lowered himself down to the ground. I kept my gun trained on the robots, but none of them made any motion to attack. Not that my gun would have stopped them.

Oakland sent a few of the bigger guys over the wall next, and once ten were down, one of the Havoc kids tried swinging a shovel at a raccoon. It jumped out of the way amazingly fast but didn’t fight back.

I stayed on top of the wall, watching the rest of the Havocs go, then the Society. Finally the V’s climbed up the tree bridge. Becky stood on top of the wall now, and I climbed back down to help Carrie and Anna get Curtis up the logs. His fingers were curled tight, digging into my shoulder, and each breath sounded like an agonizing wheeze, as he tried to restrain himself from screaming in pain.

When he reached the top, he paused to catch his breath.

The students below were in a nervous cluster, staring outward at the endless sea of pines that continued before us. The animals had backed away, but were still in a loose semicircle around us.

We tied the cord around Curtis’s chest, under his arms. It wasn’t a good fix, and Carrie looked mortified as Anna, Becky, and I lowered him down. We couldn’t help but do it jerkily—Curtis was heavy—and he cried out when he finally hit the ground.

Carrie jumped down next, and then Anna and Becky.

On top of the wall, I turned for one final look back. I couldn’t see the school through the trees, and I wondered whether I’d ever see it in person again. Hopefully, I’d see it on the front page of the newspaper, with headlines about torture and imprisonment and I’d see Ms. Vaughn in an orange prison jumpsuit, being tried on dozens of counts of murder.

Below me, Oakland was already leading the group forward and into the forest. Guys with long-handled weapons—rakes and shovels and pruning hooks—walked ahead of the others, trying to shoo the robot animals away. Carrie was helping Curtis stay upright, and Becky was standing at the base of the wall, waiting for me.

I jumped. The ground was harder than I expected, and my shins stung on impact, but I was also filled with a sudden sense of elation. I didn’t know what lay ahead of us, but we had crossed the first obstacle.

This forest had sparser trees but thicker underbrush. We had to go slower now, fighting our way through the thick, dry bushes and grass. Becky and I were walking at the back now with Mason, Curtis hobbling up ahead of us. I felt isolated and vulnerable.

“This is bad,” she whispered. We had to look down to keep our footing, unable to properly keep a watchful eye on the forest.

Someone screamed, and everyone started talking at once. I couldn’t see what was going on, but they all started to run forward. Becky, Mason, and I jogged after them, slowed only by Curtis in front of us, who was staggering as quickly as he could.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to look ahead.

“Maybe they just got spooked,” Mason said.

“I have the gun,” Curtis wheezed.

I nodded, not taking my eyes off the people up front. “We might need it.”

Oakland’s voice wasn’t far, and I could hear him ordering the students to stay together and to keep moving.

“We’ll be okay,” I said, almost automatically. I didn’t know whether the assurance was more for them or for me.

People shouted up ahead. I tensed but quickly realized they were joyful cries. As we got closer we could see the fence, the chain link reflecting in the moonlight. We were there, and maybe the worst part was over. The animals were there, too, but everyone was ignoring them.