The helicopter is shooting up by the time Norm hits the ground. Three more guards pour out of the truck and join the onslaught. Bullets spark off the helicopter's metal body as it turns in the air and flies to a safe distance.

Down below, Norm's body lies unmoving in the middle of the road. Confusion edges into the earlier panic. People look at one another for answers. Did the helicopter come here to rescue us? Is that why the guards are attacking it?

I already know the answer. Sam brought me to the research facility and warned me about the lockdown. He gave me a Blank-delaying antidote inside a case that would only open if I stepped outside the stress facility. He wanted us to try to escape.

"Sam sent that helicopter," Willow says, mirroring my own conclusion.

"It doesn't matter," Marcus says. "Even if the helicopter lands, the guards won't let anyone get on or off."

"So they can't help us?" asks a girl beside Willow.

Marcus curls his hand into a fist against the wall. His black eyebrows pull into a deeper frown. "They're making things worse for us."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Too much noise."

He's right. "They'll draw attention to our location," I say. "But if the helicopter leaves, the guards on the ground will find us."

"We're in trouble either way," Willow says dejectedly.

Marcus turns to the crowd and looks across the room. "That doorway leads outside, doesn't it?"

I follow his gaze and spot the wide opening behind us, showing a glimpse of the flat, dusty terrain at the back of the building.

"So we're not trapped," he continues. "We have two options. Hang around and wait for our heroes to figure out a way to save us. Or leave this place before it kills more of us."

"How do we get out?" I ask, hoping he has a better plan than just taking off.

He looks around at the crowd. "I'm sure you've heard by now that some of us were raised right here in this base. If you haven't, we don't have time to bring you up to speed. You'll just have to trust me when I say they've got a few trucks nearby. We attack and take their trucks."

A chorus of voices pick up around me, drowning one another out. "It's too dangerous!" someone says over the noise.

Marcus picks out the speaker from the crowd and addresses him. "Everything we've done up to this point has been dangerous. Why start being cowards now?"

"I'm with you, Captain," one of the bigger guys shouts.

A few others agree, but they're outnumbered. The voices pick up in volume as people shout back and forth at one another. Marcus walks into their midst and holds up his arms, gaining their attention. "Calm down. You with the orange hair. We're not arguing about who goes first in the buffet line, so keep the enthusiasm in check."

The overweight kid's face turns as red as his hair. "I'm not forcing anyone to come with me if they don't want to," Marcus says once the rest quiet down. "You get to choose if you want your prince to come rescue you or pick up the damned sword yourself and go fight."

He paces as he speaks, like a commander giving a speech to his soldiers. "Personally, I'm not counting on fairy tales. So if you're with me, get over here and stand with me."

The kids glance at one another. Some turn their seeking gazes to me, and I try very hard not to return their looks. I don't want to choose this for them. A boy I vaguely recognize raises his hand. "W-what if I don't want to fight?"

"It's up to you." Marcus's shadowed eyes are pinned on him. "But think long and hard about that choice."

I strain to read his expression better, wondering if I'm imagining the vein of threat running through his casual tone. The kid must hear it, too, because he whispers, "Yeah, I'll go."

One by one, people trickle over to Marcus's side. First, it's the tougher-looking boys, the ones with guns and knives. The ones who look like they wouldn't mind getting a little blood on them, as long as it's the enemy's blood.

Realizing most of their defenders are going to leave them, the others don't have much of an option at this point. The choice is made for them. Whether they like it or not, they'll be fighting for their lives yet again.

In the end, Marcus picks out about two-thirds of the group to go with him, including Adam and Janie. Mostly the people he surrounded himself with at the facility, plus some. No wonder he was so accommodating. He knew he'd need their support someday.

He skips over Willow and me. I understand she needs to be with Alec, but I have no excuse to stay behind. "I'll go, too," I say.

"You'll stay here."

I cross my arms, steeling myself against his authoritative tone. "I can help."

"I know you can. That's exactly why I need you to stay with the rest. With me and the others gone, I need someone I can trust to look after them."

My brain barely registers the part about trusting me. All I'm hearing is that he doesn't want me to come along. Does he think I'm a liability? Is he doubting my judgment? I swallow the confusing panic rising to my throat.

Calm down, Sam's voice says in my head.

I clench my right hand to make it go still. "Willow can do that."

"Doubt it. She's not much use to anyone right now."

"Gee, thanks," Willow mutters from Alec's side.

"I'm not going to stay behind," I argue.

He heaves a sigh like I'm being difficult for no reason. It breaks my restraint. "I'm the reason these people are out here," I snap, hating the way my voice comes out shrill. "I don't deserve to be save when they're putting their lives in danger. You called me a runner before, but there's a difference between that and a coward. I'm not a coward."

Don't be a fool. Anger burns you more than it hurts anyone else.

Shut up, Sam.

Marcus looks surprised by my outburst, which highlights how childish I'm being. He leans in closer, his dark eyes steady on mine. I drink in his stability, and it grounds me in a way I'm painfully lacking. "I know your confidence took a big hit, but these kids are counting on you. You're needed here. Stay for them, if no one else."

"Okay," I whisper, ashamed.

Marcus lifts a hand to touch the side of my face. I'm starkly aware of the curious gazes on us, which triggers a blush I can't stop, but I can't break this contact even if I want to. "Keep out of sight," he tells me gruffly. "We'll be back as soon as we can."

I nod, my chest clenched. "Be careful."

"You need a gun?"

"Offering a girl a gun," Janie says coyly. "How romantic."

My blush deepens as her friends snicker. "No. If we're lucky, we won't lay eyes on a single guard until you get back. You're the ones who have to worry about an ambush."

He opens his mouth to say more and seems to change his mind. The look in his eyes is bleak, like he thinks something will go wrong. It doesn't do much for my peace of mind. "Here," he says, pressing something cold and smooth into my hand.

I look down at the butter knife, both grateful and disturbed. The only way I will need this is if the guards find us. And if they do . . . we're screwed majorly.

Marcus slips his gun out of his waistband. "You good, Saint?" he asks. "You're not going to bleed to death while we're gone, are you?"

Alec lets out a laugh and then groans. "I thought I'd never hear that nickname again. I think I prefer Moneybags."

"Nah. You're more of a self-righteous asshole than a trust fund asshole."

He gives him a half-smile. "Don't worry about me. I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

"Take care of him, Willow."

She seems surprised that he's addressing her, and with none of his usual hostility. It's even more disarming when he adds, "Maybe someday you'll forgive me."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Marcus," she says in a soft voice.

Jaw clenched, he jerks his head toward the back door. "Let's go, kids."



We're left in the dark quiet of the room once Marcus and his crew disappear out the back. Seven or eight of us. I'm too tense to breathe normally, too aware as their footsteps fade and no other sounds come from their direction. No gunshots or screams or anything to give me an idea of what's happening out there. I don't know if that's a good sign or not.

About ten minutes later the helicopter takes off, and then there's dead silence. I've given up on breathing altogether as I wait for the men in the cargo truck to walk into our refuge, guns blazing. Instead the truck revs to life and takes off down the road.

I let out a sigh and look around the darkening room. Most of my companions look scared. Hopeless. I wonder if they'll get a chance to be normal and happy again, or if we'll always be on the run, looking over our shoulders. Gardiner won't just give up.

Willow has settled on the hard floor beside Alec, her arms wrapped around her knees and her head hanging low. "How's he doing?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

She lifts her head and brushes back curls of blond hair. I notice the dried blood on her hands. "I don't know. I don't know if he'll make it or if—if he'll die in here." Her voice cracks. "It doesn't look good."

"Hey." Alec moves his head against the wall, angling his face toward her. "I'm not going anywhere, alright? So dry those tears."

Sniffling, Willow shuffles closer to him. Their heads are bent close together, but I hear him when he murmurs to her, "You're wrong, by the way."

"I am?"

"I would never leave you for anyone. April is the first person our age we heard about." He closes his eyes and swallows. "I was curious about her. Maybe a little too much, but that's all it was. But when you dumped me, I got angry. I wanted to show you I'd moved on."

I should be offended that he used me, but I'm not. I'm relieved he doesn't have feelings for me. Flirting with Alec was fun at times. Kissing him was definitely enjoyable. But I don't feel anything deeper for him because of one key reason. He's not Marcus.

"You never let me get close to you," he continues. "It always felt like you had one foot out of the door—like you didn't expect our relationship to last."

"It's not your fault," Willow protests.

He cracks a smile. "So you did keep me at a distance."

She looks away from him, eyes closed, and I catch the pained look on her face. She waits until she's contained her reaction before turning back to him. Her hand touches his cheek gently. "Shhh. We'll have time to talk when you're better."

She doesn't want to tell him she became his girlfriend because Sam ordered her to. Probably not the best time to break his heart.

"Yeah," he says softly. "Someday, maybe . . ."

His voice fades away. Startled, I make a move toward him, but Willow isn't panicking so I take that as a good sign.

My body buzzes with energy. How long does it take to steal a couple of trucks? And why aren't we hearing anything? We can't be too far away from wherever the trucks are supposed to be. I take a deep breath and release it. This has to be a good sign. If I don't hear gunshots, at the very least it means no one on our side is dead.

One of the kids nearby cocks his head. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?" I ask him.

He glances around nervously. "I don't know. Sounded like someone kicked a rock. It came from outside."

That's all the warning we get. A loud scream pierces my ears, right before I hear a thud and scuffling noises. I try to pinpoint the source of the commotion, but with the darkness and the kids scattering in every direction, I don't pick up on the danger immediately.

Then I see them. A teenager—a boy or a girl, I can't tell which—flat on the floor and being straddled by someone. The shadowy figure draws back an arm and swings it down with ungodly strength. My knees buckle when the teenager's screams choke off into a wet gurgle.

Two people run out through the backdoor, but their screams reach our ears immediately. My gaze jerks back to the figure crouched by the teenager. Even in the night, I can make out his white t-shirt and his bleached-blond hair. I recognize him. The last time I saw him, he was being led off into the white room.

He gets up with the carefully measured movements of a Blank and stalks toward us. His hands curl threateningly, and someone whimpers. I have no doubt they're capable of crushing bone with their inhuman strength.

My disbelief that he's here with us instead of locked up back at the facility turns to horror when another Blank appears. It's the girl I spoke to before I left the gym. The one I tried to comfort with the promise that I'd bring back help. There's no helping her now.

The first victim, still alive, is dragging himself away on his stomach. There's a big crimson spot on the back of his t-shirt. This can't be happening. We didn't come out here just to die to the same monsters we were trying to escape, did we? How is this even possible?

"Quiet down, my pets," a male voice says. Eli appears behind the Blank girl, an eerie smile on his face as he takes us in. "What a pleasant surprise. Marcus left you for me? It's like Christmas morning already."

Someone behind me is wailing outright. Willow is kneeling beside a boy, cradling his head against her stomach. It takes me one horrifying moment to register it's not Alec. She stumbles to her feet and brushes a hand across her teary eyes. "What did you do, Eli?"

He waves the gun in his hand. "Me? I didn't do anything."

I spot a fourth person hiding in the shadows behind him, and my puzzlement about the Blanks' deference to Eli settles. Weasel. This is why Eli has been spending time with him. He's been plotting to exploit his power for days, but we were too busy avoiding him to see it.

"How are you doing this?" I ask Weasel.

His ability allows him to manipulate emotion. If he's controlling them, it means there's something inside these Blanks that he's able to get to.

Weasel looks at Eli to make sure he's allowed to speak, but I can tell by the way his small eyes glimmer that he's eager to share his diabolical plans.

"Was it fear?" I probe. "Anger?"

"Obedience," he blurts. "That's all they're feeling. It's weird. Everyone's got more than one emotion at a time, but with these things it's like they're robots. They've got one setting. Makes it easy to control them though. All I have to do is redirect their obedience to Eli."

"Who were they obeying before?"

He shrugs. "Hell if I know it. I just know what they feel. I don't know what's causing it."

The female Blank moves closer, cutting short my inquisitive train of thought. We all take a collective step back and press into each other to take up as little space as possible. Someone passes in front of the backdoor. I suspect it's the last of the three Blanks.

"Why are you doing this?" Willow demands.

"You know exactly why." Eli shrugs, still smiling like this is a joke to him. "Just doing my job, darling. Cleaning up the mess you guys made. Think of me as your trusty janitor."

I brush my palm against the knife in my pocket. Will I be able to pull it out and stab the Blank closest to me before he kills someone else?

"Are you mad at us for leaving?" I ask. It takes too much effort to be calm when all I want is to scream and claw his eyes out.

"No, he's not angry," Willow answers. "He's just Jonathan Blaine's twisted puppet. The mess he's talking about—it's us. All of us. Blanks and normal kids alike."

I should have known Blaine put him up to his. All this time I was looking outwardly, expecting him to send in his men to finish us off, when the weapon of choice, Eli, was right with us from the beginning. Blaine never expected any of us to survive. He was counting on Eli to finish the job. The irony of using Blanks isn't lost on me.

"Harper didn't commit suicide, did she?" I say. "She was your first victim. And the kids who stayed behind—what did you do to them?"

He gives me a look like I'm simple-minded. "Come on, brainy girl. Do I have to spell everything out for you?"

"They're all dead?" I choke out. All of them? Carson?

He tilts his head, considering my question. "Not quite. Your hillbilly friend is alive, but I'm afraid he's not doing so well."

"What are you saying? Just tell me!"

Grinning, he points his gun at Willow, who freezes in place.

"No!" I shout.

He pulls the trigger. The gun makes a crackling sound, and white-blue light dances across the end pointed at Willow. "Chill, Willy. Just a harmless stun gun. Then again, electricity isn't harmless to us, is it?"

I remember the conversation I had with Willow and Janie as we passed the research facility. An overload of electricity can trigger the full transformation. My stomach floods with dread. "What did you do to Carson?"

He cocks his head to one side and calls out, "Come on out, buddy."

Carson steps in through the backdoor, and my first instinct is to go to him. I come to a stop when he looks at me. His eyes are unrecognizable. Gone are the soft dark-brown eyes that I've come to know and love about him. Their child-like innocence, two windows incapable of hiding what's behind them. Now they're blank of everything that defines Carson.

Nothing else has changed, but he looks different. His face is harsher, more like that of a killer than an earnest teenage boy, when it's not animated by emotion. If I didn't already hate Eli, I sure as hell do now for what he did to my friend.

Eli spins the stun gun in his hand and blows on the barrel end. "Don't feel bad. He was going to blank sooner or later. All I did was speed up the process." He grins. "Gotta admit this mutt is my favorite of the pack. I let them all lose on those kids, but, man, you should have seen him. It was like watching a lioness tear apart gazelles on the Serengeti or some shit."

The dark spots on Carson's t-shirt aren't mud. It takes superhuman strength to swallow my bile. "You're a bigger monster than they are," I bite out.

"Hey, I'm just doing my job. It's dirty work, but someone's got to do it. For the greater good. For the survival of the human race."

"No. Don't pretend you're doing this for anyone but you. You're sick."

He shrugs. "When you're handed a knife and told to stab someone to death, you have two choices. You let yourself get wrapped up in wrongs and rights until you hate your own existence, or you learn to embrace it. You accept what you are and make the best of it. You know who taught me that? Marcus."

"Marcus is five times the person you'll ever be," I say, wondering where the hell he is.

The Blanks encircle us like predators. I have no doubt that, once he's done gloating, Eli will unleash them on us. I search for an escape route, but the Blanks are blocking both exits. The only way we'll live through this is to fight. Which means we're as good as dead.

Eli cracks up. "Oh, man. Team Sam is so pathetic I'm feeling sorry for you. You think Marcus is on your side? You think you've redeemed him somehow? You can't erase the last eight years of his life by batting your eyelashes and telling him there's good left in him. Sorry, sweetheart, but Director Blaine emptied him of anything good a long time ago."

I glance at Willow. Her expression is grim but not disbelieving. "Marcus made mistakes in the past," I say, defiant enough for both of us, "but he's making up for them now. Even if you kill us, you won't be able to get to everyone. They'll get out whether you like it or not, and it's all thanks to him."

"Let me guess. Marcus took them to get the trucks. Hate to break it to you, but they're not going anywhere. They're going straight to Jonathan Blaine. And guess who's leading them there?" He laughs at our dumbfounded expressions. "I'm so glad I'm here to see this moment. When holier-than-thou Willow and Marcus's latest fling both realize they've been played."

"You're lying," I blurt out. Everything in me is tightly fisted, refusing to let in a sliver of doubt. Marcus wouldn't betray us. There is goodness inside him.

"Oh, yeah? Director Blaine ordered me and Marcus to take care of all of you if someone blanked. Marcus knew what I was going to do. Why do you think he walked out of that facility and left behind all those kids to die unless he's been working with us all along?"

"He knew?" I ask breathlessly, cracks forming in my conviction.

"Don't take it personally, love," Eli says in a tone I'm not dumb enough to mistake for sympathy. "He's willing to follow Director Blaine to the ends of the world. Hell, he would even die for him. Me, I do it because there's never been a choice. But Marcus believes there's something noble about keeping monsters like us from common folk. That side of him will never go away no matter how many times Sam brainwashes him."

My mind is spinning wildly. I wish I had the luxury of making sense of Eli's words, laying everything out like notecards on a tabletop and rearranging them in a way I can comprehend. But I don't. I don't even get enough time to catch my breath.

"Enough of that," Eli says. "Go on, you stupid mutts. Finish them."

Weasel, twitching nervously in the background, takes a step forward.

A second later, the four Blanks attack us.