“Well, do you know about the floods? Came fast, in less than two years, and wiped out half of the low-lying south. Places Reps like you have probably never even heard of. Louisiana, gone. Florida, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Carolinas, gone. So fast you’d swear they never existed in the first place, at least if you couldn’t still see some of their buildings peeking out far off in the ocean.”
“And that’s why you guys came here?”
“More land in the west. You have any idea how many refugees there were? Then the west built a wall to keep the easterners from overcrowding their states, from the top of the Dakotas down through Texas.” The soldier slams one fist into the palm of her other hand. “So we had to build tunnels to get in. There used to be thousands of them back when the migration was at its peak. Then the war started. When the Republic started using the tunnels to launch surprise assaults on us, we sealed them all off. The war’s been going on for so long that most people don’t even remember that the fight’s about land. But when the floodwaters finally settled, things over here stabilized. And we became the Colonies of America.” She says this with her chest puffed out. “This war won’t go on for much longer—we’ve been winning for a while now.”
I remember Kaede telling me that the Colonies were winning the war when we first touched down in Lamar. I hadn’t thought too much of it then—after all, what’s one person’s assumption? Rumor? But now this soldier’s saying it like it’s the truth.
Both of us pause as the commotion outside the building gets louder. I tilt my head. There have been crowds of people coming and going from the hospital ever since we got here, but I hadn’t thought about it. Now I think I hear my name. “Do you know what’s going on out there?” I ask. “Can we move my friend to a quieter room?”
The soldier crosses her arms. “Want to see all the commotion for yourself?” She gestures for me to get up and follow her.
The shouting outside has reached a thunderous pitch. When the soldier swings the balcony’s doors open and leads us out into the night air, I’m greeted by a gust of icy wind and a huge chorus of cheers. Flashing lights blind me—for a second all I can do is stand there against the metal railings and take in the scene. It’s some insanely late hour of the night, but there must be hundreds of people below our window, oblivious to the snow-packed ground. All of their eyes are turned up to me. Many of them hold up homemade signs. Welcome to our side! one says.
The Phantom Lives, says another.
Take Down the Republic, says a third. There are dozens of them. Day: Our Honorary Colonian! Welcome to Tribune, Day! Our home is your home!
They know who I am.
Now the soldier points at me and smiles for the crowd. “This is Day,” she shouts.
Another eruption of cheers. I stay frozen where I am. What’re you supposed to do when a bunch of people are yelling your name like they’re completely cracked? I have no goddy clue. So I raise my hand and wave, which brings their shrieks to a higher pitch.
“You’re a celebrity here,” the soldier says to me over the noise. She seems to be much more interested in this than I am. “The one rebel the Republic can’t seem to get their hands on. Trust me, you’ll be plastered all over the tabs by morning. Evergreen Ent is going to be dying to interview you.”
She keeps talking, but I’m not paying attention to her anymore. One of the people holding up signs has caught my attention. It’s a girl with a scarf wrapped around her mouth and a hoodie covering part of her face.
But I can tell it’s Kaede.
My head feels light. Instantly I think back on the blinking red alarm down in the bunker, warning June and me of someone approaching the hideout. I recall the person I thought had been following us down the Colonies’ streets. Was it Kaede? Does that mean that other Patriots are here too? She’s holding up a sign that’s almost lost in the sea of others.
The sign says: You have to go back. Now.
I’M DREAMING AGAIN. I’M SURE OF IT BECAUSE METIAS is here, and I know he’s supposed to be dead. This time I’m ready for it, and I keep a tight rein on my emotions.
Metias and I are walking in the streets of Pierra. All around us, Republic soldiers run around rubble and explosions, but to the two of us, everything seems quiet and slow, like we’re watching a movie in extreme slow motion. Showers of dirt and shrapnel from grenades bounce harmlessly off of us. I feel invincible, or invisible. One or the other, maybe both.
“Something’s just not right here,” I say to my brother. My eyes go up to the roofs, then back down to the chaotic streets. Where is Anden?
Metias gives me a thoughtful frown. He walks with his hands behind his back, graceful as any captain ought to be, and the gold tassels on his uniform clink softly together as he goes. “I can tell this scene is bothering you,” he replies, scratching at the faint scruff on his chin. Unlike Thomas, he’d always been a bit lax about the military’s grooming rules. “Talk to me.”
“This scene,” I say, pointing around us. “This whole plan. Something’s off.”
Metias steps over a pile of concrete rubble. “What’s off?”
“Him.” I point up to the roof. For some reason, Razor is standing there in plain sight, watching everything happen. His arms are crossed. “Something’s not right about him.”
“Well, Junebug, reason it out,” Metias says.
I count off on my fingers. “When I got into the jeep behind the Elector’s, the drivers’ instructions were clear. The Elector told them to take me to the hospital.”