49
It’s about midday the following week when everyone is summoned to the cafeteria for an emergency meeting. I arrive with Rook to find Dean Withers standing at the front, the giant portraits of the chancellors and General Sol serving as a backdrop.
We take our seats as everyone exchanges confused looks. What’s going on?
In the corner, I notice a few third-year students from House Asale. Their heads are bent, and a few look like they’ve been crying.
Prickles of dread gather in my stomach.
Dean Withers claps her hands to get our attention just as I spot Domino and Journey enter with Calloway and Skylar.
They all slide into their seats on the far side of the room.
I offer a wave, and Domino tips her head in question, but I respond with a shake of mine.
I have no idea what’s happening, either.
“Students!” Dean Withers calls over the noise until everyone quiets. “I’m sorry to announce that we have called you here today to share some tragic news.”
Whispers ripple through the crowd.
“Last night, a student from House Asale was taken from us,” she says. “They were found this morning in the plaza right outside.”
Worry turns to shock.
The House Asale students are crying harder now, consoling one another.
Dean Withers goes on to tell us the victim’s name. I didn’t know them personally, but I’m heartbroken nonetheless.
Once everyone has had a moment to process the news, Dean Withers speaks again. “Vigilance is our only tool against this violence,” she says. “We must do everything we can to seek out the infected, lest things become even worse.”
She clasps her hands, and then a stream of people enters. Extinguishers and Patrol officers, all holding stunners. Dozens of them. Another ribbon of anxiety creeps down my spine as I share a glance with Rook.
“Today, everyone will undergo testing,” she says. “Here at Amery and throughout the city, every citizen of New Manhattan must be assessed. It’s the only way we can stop this ongoing massacre.”
A row of Patrol officers stands blocking the only exit as the blare of alarm bells rings in my head. I recall my father’s cryptic statements about the murders and wonder what’s really going on.
“No one will leave this room without passing the blood test,” Dean Withers says as several Extinguishers brandish the devices I’ve become all too familiar with.
But I’d be willing to bet there isn’t a single actual Keeper in this room.
I’ve heard too many rumors about false accusations to believe this is real.
I watch the Extinguishers as they work, breathing a sigh of relief every time the monitor beeps and the light turns green.
They continue for several minutes as the tension in the air grows thick. No one speaks or seems to move, and the silence becomes unnerving.
Then the first person starts to scream.
“No! No! I’m not infected!” someone shouts.
A commotion ensues, and a student is hauled up from their seat.
My vision blurs when I realize it’s Journey.
“No!” I yell, standing up.
A Patrol is on me immediately, jamming the butt of his stunner against my stomach. I double over, gasping for breath. Rook jumps to his feet, and the Patrol swings his weapon around, aiming it at Rook’s chest.
“Sit down,” he snarls. “Or I’ll shoot you.”
Journey is now being dragged away by her arms as she kicks and flails.
“Journey!” I choke out. She already passed the blood test last year. I know she isn’t a Keeper.
Domino is also up, trying to reach Journey, but she’s held back by two massive Patrols. More officers surround Journey as she screams and fights.
Skylar is sobbing and clutching at herself.
I reach for Journey again, but I’m shoved back. Rook snags me around the waist as I topple against him. I’m crying. Tears coat my cheeks as he hangs on to me, and Journey’s shrieks fill the room.
“We’ll get her back,” he whispers furiously while he rubs my arm.
“The Fog will get her back. I promise.” He repeats it over and over as I tremble.
Domino collapses into her seat, dropping her head to the table as Calloway leans over to console her.
I want to go to her, but the Patrol is blocking every aisle.
Even from here, I can see how hard her shoulders are shaking.
“Journey,” I whisper as she’s taken away, as we watch the Extinguishers continue through the room. Two more people are taken—a student from House Tera I don’t recognize, and Summer Aster from House Fiama.
They both scream and fight. Deny the accusation. More tears burn in my eyes as they’re dragged from their seats, their shouts echoing around the room. The air grows so thick that it feels like it might snap in half, shattering everything—the floor, the walls, the roof—into jagged pieces.
Rook’s arms remain tight around me, and I lean against him, burying my face in the curve of his throat.
“No!” Summer is still screaming. “I’m not infected. Stop! Don’t take me!”
It’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard. I’m sure she’s innocent, but I’m helpless to do a single fucking thing about it. She’s carried off, her cries eventually fading until only an echo of her panic hangs in the air.
“Skies,” I whisper. “What are we going to do? What about Journey?”
“We’ll get her back,” Rook promises. “We’ll get her back.”
Maybe if he says it enough, it will eventually be true.
The whispers in the room shift, and I look up to see that General Sol has just arrived. She stands in the doorway, flanked by her Circle Guards, sweeping her gaze over Amery’s students.
Another person is being dragged toward her. A girl from House Aria. She’s already given up. She’s sobbing quietly, her knees melting from under her.
“Take her to the Tempestade,” Sol says, her voice devoid of emotion. “She’ll be dealt with like the others.”
Then she walks to the front of the room and begins speaking with Dean Withers. I’d give anything to hear what they’re saying. I want to ask her what’s going on. How can she allow this to happen?
The testing continues. Someone else is pulled from their seat. More screams. More protests. Are they just picking random people? I know Journey isn’t infected.
I recognize Dire’s former partner, Lieutenant Carter, as he approaches our table and begins working his way down the line, grabbing each person’s hand. Every time the light turns green, I almost faint from holding my breath.
Carter stops in front of Rook and me, nothing but malice in his icy blue eyes. “Take your seat,” he says to me.
I nod and slide off Rook’s lap. “Do we have to do this again?” I ask. “I’ve already been tested twice.”
I glance over at General Sol, who’s watching us, but her face remains expressionless. Where has she been all this time? Why isn’t she stopping this?
Carter doesn’t respond as he reaches down, grabs my hand, and stabs my finger. I wince at the bright flash of pain and hold my breath.
I’ve fooled the monitor twice, but I’m convinced they’re targeting random people. Nothing will save me if they decide I’m infected.
Another glance at General Sol reveals her standing with her hands on her hips, leaning slightly forward. Am I to be damned again? If so, why go to all the trouble of clearing my name just to accuse me now?
The machine whirs and clicks, and then the light turns green.
Carter releases my hand, and I sway in my seat, lightheaded with relief but sick with a thousand other snarled emotions.
I don’t even realize he’s already grabbed Rook’s wrist.
The machine hums, doing its work.
I stare at it, suddenly removed from this moment.
Like I’m floating above my body.
I become breath and atoms, with nothing holding me together.
The machine stutters, tweaks, then emits a shrill beep as the light flashes red.