CHAPTER TWO
“ARE YOU GOING TO PLAY or not?” Michael Realm asked, a pretzel rod bit between his teeth. “It’s your turn.”
The leisure room swam around me, and I didn’t see how it could be my turn when I wasn’t even playing their game. But the drugs Nurse Kell had given me made everything seem heightened, surreal. Like I was walking through a dream.
I sat down at the table, and Realm tossed me some cards, which I fanned out. I hadn’t played bullshit since middle school, but I remembered the basic concept.
“I’ll go,” the guy next to me said.
“No, Derek,” Realm said, pulling out the pretzel rod to point it at him. “We always let the pretty girls go first.” Realm smiled at me, but I didn’t return it. I kept watching him, sensing something off.
Derek groaned, and when I turned to him, he peeked at me as if from behind a curtain. I got the sense that he was faking—faking sick or faking well, I couldn’t decide. But his dark eyes scanned me, and I didn’t like their predatory nature. The way they paused where they shouldn’t.
“Fuck off,” I said under my breath. He had a spark of anger, glancing once at Realm before going back to his cards. Realm’s glare was deadly.
“Oh, shit,” the kid next to Derek said, motioning across the room.
“What’s up, Shep?” Realm asked reluctantly, putting the pretzel back in his mouth.
“Here she comes.”
We all followed his line of vision to a girl scratching her red hair, walking toward our table. She didn’t look healthy, not even remotely, and I watched as Realm’s expression showed concern. His eyes, however, flashed nothing.
“Hi, Realm,” the girl said brightly. “Can I play this round?” She darted a quick look at me, and then smiled at him pleadingly.
“No, Tabby,” he said. “Not today.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “She gets to play!” She pointed in my direction, and I stared back at her blankly. My emotions were off—like Nurse Kell had literally turned down the volume to zero.
“I said not today,” Realm replied, sounding halfhearted. He turned back to the game, and Tabby stood there, confused, before exchanging a glance with Shep and Derek.
I looked down at my cards, finding one I’d like to use. I snapped it down on the pile, and when I looked up, Tabby was gone.
“Bullshit,” Realm said quietly, not even looking at me. I furrowed my brow and watched as he lifted his head, tears in his eyes. Next to me, Derek cursed. “It’s all bullshit, Tatum,” Realm repeated before handlers appeared next to him, pulled him from his chair, and led him from the room.
• • •
I gasp and find myself on the hallway floor of the school, fluorescent lights burning above me.
“Ow,” I murmur, rubbing the back of my head where I smacked it. I blink quickly as the knowledge folds over me.
I knew Michael Realm in The Program. But not just him—there were others. And . . . they were faking it. Why?
Still disoriented from the memory, I sit up, and there’s a trickle on my upper lip. I quickly swipe my hand through the blood that’s coming from my nose. I reach into my pocket to see if I have a tissue anywhere, when suddenly there’s one in front of me.
Startled, I look up and find Derek Thompson standing above me with a white tissue held out in my direction. My stomach seizes, and I slide back from him, bumping into the lockers.
“I know you,” I say, staring up at him. “I remember.”
I’m in a precarious position as he moves to stand above me, trying to dominate me. He lowers the tissue and puts his hand on my shoulder, fingers squeezing into the muscle, making me recoil.
“It’s about time,” he says, his mouth hitching up in a sinister smile. “Tatum Masterson, you’ve been flagged. Come with me.”
I quickly slap his hand away and try to scramble to my feet, but the minute I get a foot under me, he pushes me down again. He can’t do that! We’re at school.
I open my mouth to scream, and then he’s on top of me, his palm smothering my lips, pressing so hard I can’t open them. A flash of bright panic floods me, and I flail my arms, trying to hit him wherever I can.
It’s the same feeling I had in my foyer when handlers were dragging me out in front of my grandparents. My body shrieks, fights.
I try to tell Derek to stop, I even flop on my back to get his hand off my mouth, but he puts me in a headlock; his fingers knot painfully in my hair as he yanks me to my knees.
Behind my lips, I scream. He’s too strong. And when I see him withdraw a syringe from his pocket, I fight even harder. I won’t let him take me.
I dig my fingernails into the back of his hand and scratch as hard as I can. His skin tearing away makes my stomach turn, and Derek withdraws, cursing. Before I can yell for help, there is a sudden and blinding hit on the side of my head. The world goes white, getting smaller, and I feel myself tip sideways.
He punched me, and the reverberation of the hit has left me stunned. Shocked.
Derek grabs me by my hair and upper arm, dragging me across the hall. I’m kicking out my legs, my shoes slipping on the linoleum, and try to loosen his grip. He elbows the emergency exit door, opening it into the stairwell, and I know I’m almost out of time. The fact that the classrooms are right there, filled with people who can help me, and I haven’t been able to call to them is terrorizing.
I’m being kidnapped in plain sight.
“Stop!” I finally yell.
But Derek gets me into the concrete stairwell, and the door slams closed behind us. I know it’s too late. He’s going to inject me with whatever’s in that syringe. He’s going to drag me out of here before anyone helps me. He’s going to—
There’s movement behind him, a flash of red, and then a whack, the thud echoing off the walls. Derek’s dark eyes widen, and then I swear, it’s the like a real-life version of x-ed out cartoon eyes. He’s instantly unconscious, and before he hits the floor, a steady stream of red begins to pour down the side of his head. Down his neck. Over the shoulder of his shirt.
I scream, horrified, as he hits the cement, face-first, and there is the crunch of his nose breaking. My entire body shakes, the pain settling in. I look around wildly, from Derek’s body to the girl standing there, a fire extinguisher clutched in her hands.
“Holy shit,” I manage to say. Melody Blackstone stares back at me, a splatter of blood across her cheek.
Melody no longer looks like Jana Simms. She’s not sporty and cute. She’s dressed in a black leather coat, black jeans, and boots. Her makeup stripped away. She gapes at me, wide-eyed, slighter than I remember.
“Did you just kill him?” I ask, looking down at Derek. I try to cover my mouth, but my hands are shaking too badly. I can’t even get to my feet, and Melody sets the fire extinguisher aside and comes over to help me.
Shoulder to shoulder, we stare down at Derek’s body, and I’m trying to figure out what to do, how to fix this, when Derek moans and moves his legs.
“Not dead,” Melody says, disappointed. I look sideways at her, and she takes my arm. “But I have to get you out of here. Now.”
“What about him?” I ask, motioning to Derek, whose moaning is getting louder. My head aches from where he punched me, and I can still feel his fist in my hair. His will overpowering mine.
“I’ll take care of him once you’re safely out,” Melody says. “Now come on.”
I don’t even recognize her. Melody is every bit a handler now, a closer. I let her lead me down the stairs, knowing that I shouldn’t trust her, but also knowing that I have to. I can’t wait to see who else is involved with Derek. What if they corner me? What if this happens again? Oh, God. This can’t happen again.
“He flagged me,” I murmur, racing down the stairs with Melody. “He . . . hurt me. He was going to take me to The Program.”
“Yep,” Melody says, peeking up the stairwell to make sure no one is following us. At the ground floor, I can still hear Derek’s moans. “You’ve been flagged since yesterday. I saw the call go out. Dr. Warren claims you’re a danger to yourself and others. I’m surprised Realm didn’t get to you first.”
“Realm?” I ask, my memory flooding back. “He’s in on this?”
“He’s not with Derek, if that’s what you mean. But Michael Realm always knows what’s happening,” she says with a small smile. “He would want to protect you. Something must be wrong for him not to be here.”
“How did you know about the flag?” I ask.
“I’m on the same listserv,” she says offhandedly, and we exit the door into the parking lot. The sun is bright, and it makes me squint, my head hurting even more.
“He punched me in the head,” I say, rubbing the spot. “That fucking dick.”
Melody sniffs a laugh. “Yeah, well, he’ll have a headache for the next week, I’d say. Now, about this flag . . . any idea why Warren suddenly wants you erased? Why now?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t remember her from The Program, but I guess there was some deal struck. Maybe I broke it.”
“Maybe,” Melody says. She keeps looking around as we walk quickly toward my Jeep, in that observant way closers and handlers have about them.
We get to my driver’s door, and Melody opens it and ushers me in.
“Marie was worried about you,” I tell her. Melody meets my eyes, and I know the question on her lips. “Nathan too,” I add.
“Let them both know I’m okay,” she says. “I tried to skip town, but I couldn’t just leave you all in this mess. I’m sorry for whatever part I had in getting you into it,” she adds. “But Marie is close to a cure now, and that means you have to stay safe. Be more careful, but act normal. I’ll take care of Derek. I have a friend who’ll help me get him out of here. You won’t see him again. At least, not until this is over.”
A thought occurs to me. “Did I . . . did I know you in The Program too?” I ask, wondering if I’ve been unfair to her all this time. If we have some long, forgotten history.
“No,” she says. “But you were Realm’s friend, and by extension, mine.” She smiles. “Sound familiar?”
But her joke hits me a different way than she intended. There’s more to my and Michael Realm’s story. I knew him in The Program. I was his friend. Well, what the fuck? Why didn’t he mention that?
“Go straight home,” Melody says, checking back at the school. “Don’t tell your grandparents about this. Don’t tell anyone, if you can help it. Be normal, or the monitor will come sniffing around, and that is a whole different problem we don’t have time for. If Marie asks, tell her I went south with Asa and that I’ll call her when I can. It’s all about the cure now, Tatum. It’s the only way to stop The Program.”
I nod numbly, my mind spinning. My hands are still shaking. Before she closes the door, I reach out to stop her.
“Wait,” I say. “Won’t they just come after me again?” I ask, fear ticking up in my voice.
“Yes,” she replies. “But their first flag failed. They’ll have to wait, or it’ll draw too much attention. So you bought yourself a few days.”
“And then?” I ask.
Melody holds my gaze. “And then they’ll send better handlers.”
The idea that I’m being hunted, watched, is terrifying. “So Dr. Warren is behind this?” I ask. “She has the handlers?”
“Dr. Warren is a part of it,” Melody says, checking over her shoulder again, looking impatient. “But no, she’s not in charge. They all have handlers—Warren, Marie, Wyatt. But Dr. Warren is the only one connected to The Program.”
I’m confused, and I know we don’t have time to sort it all out. “So who’s the villain?” I ask.
To this Melody smiles ruefully. “Society,” she responds. “Now, take care of yourself. And tell Nathan . . .” She stumbles over his name. “Tell Nathan that I loved him. For real. And that I’m really sorry.”
I swallow hard, watching the hurt cross her features. And then Melody Blackstone eases my door shut, looking around the deserted lot, and runs back toward the school.