Legend

But Day doesn’t stop. Instead his voice takes on a more urgent tone. “That’s why they wanted Eden, right?” he whispers. “To see the results of their mutated plague virus? Why else?”

“They want to prevent whatever new disease he’s spreading.”

Day laughs, but again it makes him cough. “No. They’re using him. They’re using him.” His voice grows quiet. “They’re using him. . . .” His eyes grow heavy. The strain of talking has worn him out.

“You’re delirious,” I reply. But while Thomas’s touch now repulses me, I feel no revulsion toward Day. I should. But the feeling just doesn’t come. “A lie like that is treason against the Republic. Besides, why would Congress authorize such a thing?”

Day doesn’t take his eyes off me. And just when I think he’s lost the strength to respond, his voice comes out sounding even more insistent. “Think about it this way. How do they know what vaccines to give you every year? They always work. Don’t you find it strange that they can make vaccines that match the new plague that’s popped up? How can they predict which vaccine they’ll need?”

I sit back on my heels. I’ve never questioned the annual vaccinations we’re required to have—never had any reason to doubt them. And why should I? My father used to work behind those double doors, working hard to find new ways to combat the plague. No. I can’t listen to this anymore. I pluck my cape from the ground and tuck it under my arm.

“One more thing,” Day whispers as I stand. I glance down at him. His eyes burn right into me. “You think we go to labor camps if we fail? June, the only labor camps are the morgues in hospital basements.”

I don’t dare linger. Instead I walk away from the platform, away from Day. But my heart pounds against my chest. The soldiers waiting by the elevator stand even straighter as I approach. I arrange my face in an expression of pure irritation. “Unchain him,” I order one of the soldiers. “Take him down to the hospital wing and get that leg of his fixed. Give him some food and water. He won’t last the night otherwise.”

The soldier salutes me, but I don’t bother to look at him before shutting the elevator door.

I HAVE NIGHTMARES AGAIN. THIS TIME THEY’RE OF TESS.

I’m running in the streets of Lake. Somewhere ahead of me, Tess is running too, but she doesn’t know where I am. She turns left and right, desperate to see my face, but all she finds are strangers and street police and soldiers. I call out for her. But my legs can barely move, as if I’m wading through a thick sludge.

Tess! I shout. I’m here, I’m right behind you!

She can’t hear me. I look on helplessly as she runs right into a soldier, and when she tries to turn away from him, he grabs her and throws her to the ground. I scream something. The soldier lifts his gun and points it at Tess. Then I see that it’s not Tess, but my mother, who lies in a puddle of blood. I try to run to her. But instead I stay hidden behind a chimney on a roof, crouched like a coward. It’s my fault she’s dead.

Then suddenly I’m back in the hospital lab again, and the doctors and nurses are standing over me. I squint in the blinding light. Pain shoots through my leg. They’re cutting open my knee again, pulling back my flesh to reveal the bones underneath, scraping at it with their scalpels. I arch my back and scream. One of the nurses tries to hold me down. My flailing arm knocks over a tray somewhere.

“Hold still! Damn it, boy, I’m not going to hurt you.”

It takes me a minute to wake up. The blurry hospital scene shifts, and I realize I’m staring up at a similar fluorescent light and that a doctor is hovering over me. He wears goggles and a face mask. I give a shout and try to bolt upright. But I’m tied to an operating table by a pair of belts.

The doctor sighs and slides his face mask down. “Look at me. Bandaging up a criminal like you when I could be helping soldiers from the warfront.”

I look around, confused. Guards line the walls of this hospital room. A nurse is cleaning bloody equipment at the sink. “Where am I?”

The doctor gives me an impatient look. “You’re in Batalla Hall’s hospital wing. Agent Iparis ordered me to fix up your leg. Apparently we’re not allowed to let you die before your formal execution.”

I lift my head as far as I can and look down at my leg. Clean bandages cover up the wound. When I try to move the leg a little, I notice with surprise that the pain is far less than before. I glance at the doctor. “What did you do?”

He only shrugs, then peels off his gloves and starts washing his hands at one of the sinks. “Patched things up a bit. You’ll be able to stand for your execution.” He pauses. “Don’t know if that’s what you wanted to hear.”