He punches me in the nose. Twice. Blood drips from my nostrils, into my eyes, staining my hair. I long for a weapon, for something to thrust through his gut, stop his heart. But I can’t do that. I can only use words.
“That’s all you’ve got?” I ask, still working on my wrist. He turns his back to me. “You can do better than that, Interrogator!”
He turns, eyes wide. “Not impressed, Miss Woodson?”
“Barely.” I force myself to laugh, to act like I am completely unfazed. “I was hitting people harder than you as a toddler.” I close my eyes and take his next hit.
And the next.
I keep laughing, channeling the insanity I learned from my mother. If I act out of my mind, they might let up. I laugh through the pain, and I do not stop. I only laugh louder, harder, until I realize that maybe, this insanity is not a ploy. In this moment, it feels alive and real, like a beast inside of me.
The Interrogator lets out a frustrated growl.
I smile. He can’t take it anymore.
He steps closer.
So close I can imagine how I will kill him.
I just need him to take one more step.
“You’re as insane as your mother,” he says. “You’ll live in this cell for the rest of your life, until you rot.”
“I won’t,” I say. “Someone will come for me. And they’ll make sure I’m the one who gets to slit your throat.”
He walks right into my trap.
I smile, as wide as Peri does. Then I reach out, lightning quick, and grab his neck with both hands. I put all of the strength I have into the twist, and when I hear the snap, I scream for joy.
The Interrogator’s body drops.
“You will never win!” I yell, and laugh. I want the others to hear me. I want them to know what I’ve done.
That I’ve beaten them today. And I will tomorrow, and the next day after that.
It doesn’t take long. Guards rush into the room, rifles aimed at the ready. Men hold me down. I scream and writhe and try to get away, but it’s no use.
“She killed him!” one of the soldiers says. A young boy, too young to be working for them, maybe only a few years older than Peri.
“I’ll kill you, too,” I hiss, and I know that with all of the blood in my body now gathered in my head, I must look wild.
Red as fire.
“Get him out!” a guard barks. “And page the doctor. It’s time!”
They drag the Interrogator’s body from the room. There is a rush of movement, footsteps and voices, as more soldiers flood the cell.
“Move over!” a woman shouts. More footsteps, the clacking of heels on hard ground. A woman shoves her way between the guards. Her red hair is tied neatly back in a bun at the nape of her neck. She wears white nurse scrubs, and her blue eyes are locked on to mine.
“Miss Woodson, I’m Doctor Wane,” she says.
“Go to hell,” I whisper.
“I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, my dear.” She kneels down to my level. It’s then that I notice the shine of a syringe in her hand.
There is nothing I can do to escape it.
She moves too fast, and the needle is in my neck.
A pinch of pain, and suddenly the world starts spinning.
In a matter of seconds, I leave everything behind.
CHAPTER 13
ZEPHYR
Sparrow wakes up hours later, when the sun is close to setting.
I sit with my back up against the wall, watching. Staring at the horrible scars on her face. I shiver, even though it’s hot as hell in here.
I don’t trust this woman.
“Who are you?” I ask.
Sparrow sits up. Even in the light of a single lantern, I can see her gray eyes. It’s like staring at Meadow, or Lark, and I bounce between feeling a surge of hope, of warmth, to a horrible, deadly cold.
“I told you who I am,” Sparrow says. She sounds too familiar. “The real question is who are you?”
I open my mouth to speak, but she raises a hand. “Oh, I already know, Patient Zero. I’d recognize that Catalogue Number anywhere. I rigged your name to Meadow’s in the system. Several times, after my monster of a sister kept removing it.”
If it were Lark speaking to me, I’d sense the anger in her voice. But Sparrow is different. Instead of a fierceness that borders on insanity, it’s like she’s lost all hope.
She’s a dry husk of a human, inside and out.
“I should kill you right now,” I whisper. “You ruined my life. Do you know how hard it is to love a girl, when all you want to do is murder her?”
She sighs, runs a hand over her scar. “I didn’t ruin your life, Patient Zero. My sister did. I was simply trying to find a way to reverse what she’d done.”
“By continuing the killing,” I say.
I clench my fists. I breathe through my nostrils, in, out, in, out, to get ahold of the rising anger.
Sparrow shakes her head. “It was the only way,” she whispers. She leans her head back against the wall, closes her one eye. “I remember Meadow, when she was a baby. She used to squeeze my fingers, you know, the way babies do. Except Meadow was always the kind you had to force to let go. She was strong. She didn’t cry. She grew and she watched things and she was eager to learn.” She swallows, hard. “I used to work for the Initiative, right alongside my sister. She was always the smarter one, always the star. And I wanted to be like her. Until . . .”
“Until what?” I ask.