Chapter 37

I take off my shirt and look in the mirror, fingering the bandage that still wraps around my middle. The white gauze reveals a small oozing spot of blue. Dot's doctor may have stopped the bleeding, but it looks like I could have used a stitch or two. How much blue gel can I afford to lose? I pull the new shirt that Miesha bought me over my head and comb my hair with my fingers. I'm alone now.

Miesha said going to a foreign country would appear logical to Gatsbro, so she and Dot are on a train to the Republic of Texas now. Before she left, she bought me a pack and a few supplies at the Albuquerque station to hold me over, since I won't have any money of my own. The purchases will also begin a new trail for Gatsbro to follow. From here she and Dot will go on a fast-moving spending spree, leaving a trail all the way to Mexico. She'll try to exchange her money card for a new nontraceable foreign currency card when she gets there. "Then we'll double back and find you in San Diego."

"We'll try," Dot added, seeming to understand all that could go wrong. She took the news better than Miesha expected, saying that helping an Escapee sometimes means parting ways. It was all for the cause. I didn't really understand what she meant, and there wasn't time for her to explain, but she does tell me that the Network that helped us in Boston is in San Diego too. She doesn't know the contacts there, but she said to fish outside the station among the CabBots and ask if they know a Mr. F. If I found the right one, they would help me--for a favor. I would be worried about how many favors I may end up owing if I didn't already have bigger problems.

When Miesha saw their train arrive, she gave me some hasty last instructions and told me she didn't know how long it would take them. Days or maybe even weeks. We stood there awkwardly. It was the point you would normally hug someone good-bye. Miesha and I had never hugged, and just a few hours earlier, I was ready to drop her off somewhere. Now I didn't want her to go. Dot saved us both the awkwardness by putting her hand out to shake mine.

"Remember," she told me, "your success..." She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to. Miesha swiveled Dot's chair around, and they left.

I look in the mirror, pulling at my shirt the way Miesha would have, smoothing out wrinkles that aren't there. Will Jenna recognize me? Will she even remember me after all these years? She's had lifetimes to push away memories like me. I reach up and pull a strand of hair forward, trying to re-create the cowlick that no longer exists. With Miesha, Dot, and Kara gone, I can't get Jenna out of my mind. After all this time, I'm going to see her. What will I say?

Why didn't you save us?

We would have saved you.

Couldn't she have pleaded with her father not to abandon us? I look at my body. It has human tissue. So what if it was made in a lab and isn't mine? Is that why I repulsed Greta and Cole? I lean closer to the mirror, rubbing my fingers against my forehead. Will I make Jenna's skin crawl?

I step back, tucking my shirt into my pants. My mind is still here. Who cares if I don't have ten measly percent of my brain? That was the difference between her life and our life sentence? We were condemned to a suffocating black prison just because we didn't have a handful of slimy white tissue. That qualifies her as human?

"Screw tissue."

I wash my hands in the sink, removing the residue of blue BioPerfect from beneath my fingernail. She of all people knew what the darkness was like. I heard her. I heard her scream, and I tried to reach her. We were there together, for God's sake. At least at first. Why didn't she try to reach out to me too? Kara did.

Was it the accident? Was Jenna punishing me for that? I was only sixteen. I didn't know. I didn't mean--

I shake the drips from my hands and swipe them through the dryer. Jenna was never the vengeful type. She understood about mistakes. She understood everything. At least I thought she did. That's what I loved about her. And her laugh. The way she would hiccup if we made her laugh too hard. And her eyes. The ones I could get lost in when she wasn't looking. She was caring and forgiving. But then ... so was Kara. She never used to be the vengeful type, either.

I take a last look at myself in the mirror. I see a different person from the one Jenna and Kara used to know. Bigger, stronger, and angrier--thanks to Gatsbro.

Maybe we've all changed.

I grab my pack from the floor and sling it over my shoulder. I have a train to catch.