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Becky caught up with me just as a crack broke through the morning silence like a gunshot.

Iceman had punched through the old wood of the fort’s heavy door like it was glass. He reached between the shattered boards and unlatched it.

“This isn’t good,” Becky breathed.

“We need to get out of here,” I said.

She looked back upstream, toward the truck.

“We don’t have time,” I said.

“I know,” she snapped.

Becky stood, hunched over in what was probably just as much pain as it was stealth.

“Here,” I said, reaching for her arm. “Let me carry you.”

“I’m fine.” She stepped from the bank into the stream, the frigid water rushing over her shoes and up to her calves. She paused to steady herself, and I reached for her again.

“Stop it,” Becky said, her voice firm. “I’m fine.”

I turned back to look at the fort. The gate was hanging open, and I heard the sound of something else breaking.

Becky was moving downstream, heading for the forest in short, unsteady steps. Our clothes weren’t camouflage, but they were dark and we were still in the early morning shadows. Iceman had other things on his mind, too, but I had no idea how that would affect a robot. Could he get distracted?

The water was numbing my feet, but there was no other way to get back to the forest without climbing the bank and leaving the cover of the brush.

Becky moved slowly, constantly stopping to keep from slipping. She could only stretch out one arm for balance, and I heard her heavy breathing. The fast recovery she’d seemed to be making after Jane’s help had reversed in the last twelve hours.

“Come to the fort!”

We both jumped, and she grabbed my shirt so she wouldn’t fall. I looked back, but couldn’t see anything—there was too much brush in the way.

“Come to the fort right now,” the metallic voice bellowed again, sounding almost like a bullhorn, but deeper and louder. “Or I will fry your brains one by one.”

Becky stepped back to the bank and knelt in a stand of scrubby willows.

“They’re not looking for us,” I whispered, dropping to my knees and crawling up the frozen muddy bank. He had to be talking about their implants.

She tried to stand, using the thin willow branches as support, but one snapped. We both fell, lying as flat against the earth as we could.

I couldn’t see anything—not the field, or the fort, or Becky, or anything. The only sound was the burbling of the stream behind me. But I didn’t dare move. My heart was pounding, thumping in my chest like a bass drum.

“Gather in front,” the voice ordered, its deep, inhumanly loud sound seeming to rumble around the trees and town for several seconds before dissipating.

I rolled onto my side, and I could see Becky again. She was farther down the bank, kneeling and hunched over. She was cradling her bad arm with her good one, but the look on her face was one of determination, not pain.

I mouthed the words
keep going
to her, and motioned for her to head for the forest. She nodded, but it didn’t look like she agreed with me.

Two cottonwoods grew ten feet upstream, their trunks almost touching at the bases. I slid back down the bank and crawled toward them. Crouching, I could see through the two-inch gap between them, my body still hidden almost completely.

Everyone—there had to be almost eighty with the new kids—was standing in the field. They were in groups, huddled together for warmth. Almost no one wore a coat, and one guy didn’t even have a shirt. They’d been asleep when Iceman had come.

Mason was there, in the back. He looked like he was trying to stay out of sight, but Iceman must have suspected him. He’d been the only student outdoors.

Iceman stood by the gate, his back to the wall of the fort. I couldn’t tell whether he’d been hurt by the trap. His clothes dripped and stuck to his body, but there were no obvious burn marks or mechanical problems. He looked as cold and evil as ever. And he was angry.

“We have exactly two rules for you,” he said. He wasn’t shouting, but his voice must have carried for half a mile. It was like he was talking into a microphone. “First, you’re supposed to stay out of trouble. We haven’t felt like it was important to elaborate on this order, because in the past you’ve all done a pretty decent job of this. It’s been almost three months since one of your suicidal escape attempts, and it seemed like you’d managed to keep the peace.”

I heard Becky moving toward me. I wasn’t surprised that she’d ignored me and come back.

“We’re constantly impressed by the new ways you idiots find of killing each other,” Iceman continued. He was hardly moving—no hand gestures or even big facial expressions.

“Can I see?” Becky whispered, and I moved to let her peek through the trees.

“It’s this new batch,” he continued. “All you who tried to escape at the school. We worried that bringing too many at once was going to be a problem—you were too riled up after that disaster at the school. But I had sincerely hoped that your time in surgery would have let you cool down.”

Becky slid back against the tree.

“He’s not going to hurt them,” she said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself. She wasn’t looking at me, but staring straight ahead.

I peered through the trees again.

“You’re kids, and you don’t care about these things,” Iceman said. “But what we’ve just done was not easy. Thirty-three students who needed implants. A dozen more who needed lifesaving surgeries. We have limited resources.”

Someone shouted, “Screw you!”

Iceman stopped, scanning the crowd. “Who said that?”

No one made a sound.

He took a step toward them. “It would be better for you if someone answers my question.”

The crowd started to stir, a few murmurs and hushed words.

Iceman folded his arms. “Fine.”

The field erupted in screams as every student clutched his head and fell to the ground.

“We have to do something,” Becky said, her voice quavering. There was nothing controlled or brave or tough about the noise—no one was gritting her teeth and fighting the pain—it was pure, anguished shrieking.

The screams stopped as abruptly as they began, replaced with soft moans and sobs as the tortured people lay on the cold earth.

“When you’re ready to continue,” Iceman said, “please stand. I can wait.”

Becky looked at me. “Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“An engine.”

I turned back to the road. The students were slowly climbing to their feet, their faces red and tearstained. Some didn’t look like they were even going to bother.

“Get up,” Iceman said calmly. “I believe I’ve made it more than clear what happens when you disobey me.”

The other truck appeared—a red one, speckled with rust and mud—and stopped in front of the fort.

One by one everyone stood, many standing together, holding one another up. Those who were alone looked unsteady, swaying drunkenly as they tried to regain composure.

Iceman walked to the truck and talked to the driver for a moment. Then he strolled back to the group. “As I was saying, this is all difficult. We’re on a tight schedule, and frankly we don’t have time to come out here and stop you disgusting larvae from killing each other.”

The truck door opened and Ms. Vaughn stepped out. Her voice had the same amplified quality that Iceman’s did. A chill ran down my body as I heard her speak—the last time I had, my knife was at her throat and she was laughing at me.

I wondered whether this was the same Ms. Vaughn, or another android version of her.

“Now,” Iceman said, wiping his hands on his pants, “where were we? I believe I was talking about rules, and the first one was that you guys are not to cause trouble. That dead student there? That’s what I would call trouble. The attack on one of your guards two nights ago? Trouble.”

He scanned the crowd, waiting for a reaction, but no one stirred.

“We did surgery on that boy, and that takes time and resources, and you have all wasted that.”

Ms. Vaughn spoke. “Malcolm King, please come here.”

I didn’t know who that was, but the only person who moved was Birdman. He strode to the front with as much bravado as he could muster.

Iceman still spoke to the group, not to Birdman. “We’ve given you only two rules because we thought it was best. The lack of restrictions increased your morale, and it required less oversight. However, it seems we will need to micromanage a little further.”

He turned to Birdman. “You appear to be the de facto leader of this camp.”

Birdman nodded.

Iceman faced the group again. “There are going to be changes. We don’t like your meetings and we don’t like your gangs and we don’t like your secrets. From now on, there are no clubs or cabals or gangs or cliques or factions. You now have a third rule, and that’s it: no more secrets. If we have to tear down every building in this complex and put you all in one big warehouse, we’ll do it.”

Birdman nodded again, a little more nervously.

Ms. Vaughn laughed. “Kid, what are you agreeing to? You were in charge when everything went to hell.”

Birdman dropped out of sight, but the gasps and screams made it obvious. They weren’t torturing him. Birdman was dead.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
here was a shout, and the crowd split, like the parting of the Red Sea. Suddenly Mason was running from the back, screaming as he charged Iceman and Ms. Vaughn with a long kitchen knife.

They watched him come, not even turning to fully face him.

Mason fell ten feet in front of them. It was like he’d been shut off. He skidded on the hard mud, face-first and limp and dead.

“Oh …” Becky said, but couldn’t get out any more than that. They’d killed him, but it was worse than that. It was suicide. He knew what would happen—he had to know. He’d screamed, which warned them. He’d charged from the back of the group, not trying to sneak forward. He’d wanted to die.

Blood trickled out of his ear, dribbling in a dark thin line into the mud.

Becky turned and scooted back down the bank. I watched as Iceman and Ms. Vaughn cleaned up the mess, each slinging a dead teen over a shoulder as casually as if they were putting on a backpack to go to school. The two bodies were tossed into the back of Ms. Vaughn’s truck. Someone yelped and sobbed.

Ms. Vaughn drove away, leaving the field full of horrified students to stare at Iceman.

Iceman walked back to his truck and pulled a sledgehammer from the bed. All eyes were glued to him as he walked back to the fort’s gate and smashed the hinges off the wall. With every swing he shattered the wood, pulverized the adobe, and mangled the steel. The gate was broken, but more than broken—it couldn’t be hung again. The fort wouldn’t be safe anymore.

Not like it was safe before.

Without a word, Iceman dumped the sledgehammer back in the truck, hopped in, and drove off toward the barracks. I had no doubt he’d be doing the same thing to those dorms.

I turned to look at Becky. She was crouched next to the stream, her knees to her chest as her good hand dangled in the icy water.

“I think we’re safe,” I said.

She nodded, not looking up.

“I don’t think he knows we’re here.”

She nodded again.

Somewhere in the distance I heard the sharp crack of breaking wood. Smashing the doors was just symbolic for Iceman, but it was going to be awful for the people who had to live in those barracks.

“You cold?” I asked.

Becky sat back, tucking her hand into her coat pocket. She stared at the water for a moment and then looked at me. She was good at putting on an optimistic face, but there was no pretense here. Her eyes were hard and hurt.

“You should have run.”

I shook my head and looked away. “I couldn’t.”

“You should have left me in the coop.”

“No.”

She could be as brave as she wanted, but I knew the truth. She was cold and sick and unprotected. If I’d failed, she’d have been on her own. If I’d succeeded in stealing the truck they’d know that I’d been in the town and they’d come back looking for Becky. I just couldn’t risk it either way.

The truck engine restarted in the distance. Iceman was leaving.

“Bense,” she said. “I heard what you said to Mason. I can take care of myself.”

I laughed, quiet and humorless, and looked at her. “Do you even remember what happened last night?”

“Bense …”

“Do you?” I said, raising my voice a little more. “You’ve got an infection, and you’re trying to heal, and now you’ve got Skiver and whoever else to worry about.”

“I’m glad you’re helping me,” she said. “I really am. But you have to quit babying me. If we don’t get out of here then everything that’s happened is a waste.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

I stood up and walked back to the trees. No one was in the field anymore, and Iceman was nowhere to be seen.

“When we were at the fence,” Becky said, “and we ran, we knew we had to leave people there. They told us to run. They knew it, too—that it was the only way to escape.”

I turned back to her. She looked so small below me, down at the bottom of the bank, crouched in a ball to stay warm.

“So what do you want me to do?” I tried to temper my voice, tried to sound calm, but days of frustration couldn’t be held back. “The truck’s gone. Mason’s dead. I did the best I could.”

She looked back at the stream, and then struggled to her feet. Her coat and pants were black with dirt.

“I’m not going to just head into the forest,” I said. “Not until you’re better.”

Becky looked up at me, the hardness in her face replaced with something else—I wasn’t sure what. She stepped into the stream, shuddering with cold as the water filled her shoes.

“Becky.”

She just shook her head and kept her eyes on her feet. She waded across and then climbed up the opposite bank. I hurried after her as she pushed through the willows, slowly and cautiously, wary of every difficult step. The long, thin branches whipped back at me as I followed her.