toward my classmates, who are standing in a little group, watching me from across the room. “Do you know who those people are?”
“We all go to Bethlem Academy together,” I reply. “We were on a field trip, and . . . and everything started to go wrong.”
“That’s right,” Dr. Pierce says with a look of relief. “Her memories seem to be reordering themselves. But it may be some time before she’s a hundred percent.”
“I’m fine, really,” I say. “Apart from a slightly fuzzy brain, I actually feel pretty good.”
Dr. Pierce nods. “OK. Well, let’s tend to that hand then, shall we?”
He turns and walks to a nearby trolley and begins sorting through a drawer. I cast my gaze over Bit’s shoulder to my other four huddled classmates, and all of a sudden I feel uneasy, like I’m forgetting something important. I turn to Bit and whisper, “Where is everyone else? Where are Dean and Sherrie and Karla? Where’s Miss Cole?”
Bit’s expression immediately darkens. “They’re . . . they’re gone, Finn.”
“Gone where?”
A distant look glazes over her eyes. “They’re all . . . dead,” she murmurs.
I frown at first, then let out a quiet snort and a soft chuckle. It’s a little cruel of Bit to play such a grim prank, especially just after I’ve woken up from fainting. “They’re all dead,” I gibe sarcastically. “No really, where is everyone?” I ask, still smiling as I scan the room. But as I take in the expressions on the faces all around me, my grin slowly begins to fade. Brody is looking at the floor. Brent has a faraway stare. Margaux’s eyes are pooling with tears, and Jennifer has begun sobbing quietly.
I turn and stare at Bit. “They’re dead?”
With a trembling lip, and fighting back tears, she solemnly nods.
“What about Millie and . . . and Amy?” I ask, spitting out the first names that emerge from the ominous knot that’s beginning to twist and tighten in my gut. Bit avoids my gaze as she slowly shakes her head.
“Ryan?” My lips whisper his name, and an image of his eyes rekindles in my mind. They’re an amber-hazel color, with little flecks of gold. I see his thick, wavy brown hair and his crooked smile, and I remember the warmth of his skin setting butterflies free in my stomach as we walked hand in hand through the jungle all those hours ago. I see him again, a rifle against his shoulder, firing bursts of rounds into Combat Drones as they fell onto the grass outside Dome One when we were trying to make it to the bus, but most of all I remember catching him studying my face with a slow-moving gaze, as if he were trying to soak me into his thoughts, whenever he looked at me. I look at Bit hopefully, but she’s looking at the floor. A cloud in my heart begins casting a bitter shadow over the sweet promise of the fleeting memory. “Please . . . not Ryan,” I murmur, every anxious syllable tightly wrapped in fragile scraps of hope.
Bit looks up at me, and even if she didn’t speak, the sorrow in her eyes would’ve said it all. “I’m sorry, Finn,” she says, her voice aquiver. “Ryan died trying to save your life. He’s . . . he’s gone, too.”
I just sit there, staring into nowhere. I can’t believe it. I only knew him for a few hours, so why does it feel like I’ve lost one of my dearest friends? He can’t be dead . . . he just can’t be.
All of a sudden my whole body flinches as tattered pictures flicker and strobe through my head. I see blood. Ashen faces. I hear screaming, gunfire, and the ringing echo of distant explosions.
Bit is telling the truth. I can feel it. And it hits me like a kick to the stomach.
They are dead, and a gnawing, churning ache deep in the core of my soul is telling me that it’s all my fault. It feels like a plug has been pulled from my heart. All the blood drains from my face, and I suddenly feel light-headed. My knees buckle, and I stumble backward; my hand tugs away from the towel as I
“We all go to Bethlem Academy together,” I reply. “We were on a field trip, and . . . and everything started to go wrong.”
“That’s right,” Dr. Pierce says with a look of relief. “Her memories seem to be reordering themselves. But it may be some time before she’s a hundred percent.”
“I’m fine, really,” I say. “Apart from a slightly fuzzy brain, I actually feel pretty good.”
Dr. Pierce nods. “OK. Well, let’s tend to that hand then, shall we?”
He turns and walks to a nearby trolley and begins sorting through a drawer. I cast my gaze over Bit’s shoulder to my other four huddled classmates, and all of a sudden I feel uneasy, like I’m forgetting something important. I turn to Bit and whisper, “Where is everyone else? Where are Dean and Sherrie and Karla? Where’s Miss Cole?”
Bit’s expression immediately darkens. “They’re . . . they’re gone, Finn.”
“Gone where?”
A distant look glazes over her eyes. “They’re all . . . dead,” she murmurs.
I frown at first, then let out a quiet snort and a soft chuckle. It’s a little cruel of Bit to play such a grim prank, especially just after I’ve woken up from fainting. “They’re all dead,” I gibe sarcastically. “No really, where is everyone?” I ask, still smiling as I scan the room. But as I take in the expressions on the faces all around me, my grin slowly begins to fade. Brody is looking at the floor. Brent has a faraway stare. Margaux’s eyes are pooling with tears, and Jennifer has begun sobbing quietly.
I turn and stare at Bit. “They’re dead?”
With a trembling lip, and fighting back tears, she solemnly nods.
“What about Millie and . . . and Amy?” I ask, spitting out the first names that emerge from the ominous knot that’s beginning to twist and tighten in my gut. Bit avoids my gaze as she slowly shakes her head.
“Ryan?” My lips whisper his name, and an image of his eyes rekindles in my mind. They’re an amber-hazel color, with little flecks of gold. I see his thick, wavy brown hair and his crooked smile, and I remember the warmth of his skin setting butterflies free in my stomach as we walked hand in hand through the jungle all those hours ago. I see him again, a rifle against his shoulder, firing bursts of rounds into Combat Drones as they fell onto the grass outside Dome One when we were trying to make it to the bus, but most of all I remember catching him studying my face with a slow-moving gaze, as if he were trying to soak me into his thoughts, whenever he looked at me. I look at Bit hopefully, but she’s looking at the floor. A cloud in my heart begins casting a bitter shadow over the sweet promise of the fleeting memory. “Please . . . not Ryan,” I murmur, every anxious syllable tightly wrapped in fragile scraps of hope.
Bit looks up at me, and even if she didn’t speak, the sorrow in her eyes would’ve said it all. “I’m sorry, Finn,” she says, her voice aquiver. “Ryan died trying to save your life. He’s . . . he’s gone, too.”
I just sit there, staring into nowhere. I can’t believe it. I only knew him for a few hours, so why does it feel like I’ve lost one of my dearest friends? He can’t be dead . . . he just can’t be.
All of a sudden my whole body flinches as tattered pictures flicker and strobe through my head. I see blood. Ashen faces. I hear screaming, gunfire, and the ringing echo of distant explosions.
Bit is telling the truth. I can feel it. And it hits me like a kick to the stomach.
They are dead, and a gnawing, churning ache deep in the core of my soul is telling me that it’s all my fault. It feels like a plug has been pulled from my heart. All the blood drains from my face, and I suddenly feel light-headed. My knees buckle, and I stumble backward; my hand tugs away from the towel as I
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