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  Her eyes flutter closed as she says the last word. And then she passes out.

  …

  The room erupts, with Phoebe crying, Logan moaning, and Preston shouting instructions. But Mikey’s attention is on me.

  He strides forward and rips my hand out of Callie’s. “What did you do to her? Tell me. Now!”

  Spinning me around, he grips me by the shoulders. With him so close, I can barely think, let alone talk. And then Ryder wrenches his father away, putting his bulk between us.

  “Don’t touch her,” he says, his voice low. “You may be the leader of the Underground, but I won’t let you treat her this way. She didn’t do anything, okay? Callie passed out on her own. Anyone can see that.”

  “He’s right,” Logan says tiredly. “I was standing right here, and that’s what I saw, too.”

  Mikey looks from his adopted son to his brother. And then, as though recognizing he is outnumbered, he nods. “Fine.” He pushes himself away from Ryder. “I’m not accusing you—yet,” he says to me.

  Gee, thanks, I want to say, but don’t—mostly because Ryder has shifted to stand protectively next to me, and I don’t want to make the situation worse.

  Behind us, Phoebe runs a damp cloth over Callie’s limbs. “She’s burning up. What’s her temperature, Logan?”

  He aims a laser at her forehead and reads the results on a digital display. “One hundred and two degrees.” He turns to Preston. “How soon can we expect results?”

  He rubs his forehead. “Her fever should’ve gone down by now. If the antibiotic’s not working, then Callie doesn’t have an infection.”

  “What does she have, then?” Logan asks despairingly.

  All of a sudden, it clicks. Images flash through my mind. People walking into walls that aren’t there. Mikey’s realm machine to a different world. Callie’s transparent hand.

  My knees buckle, and Ryder’s hand shoots out, catching me. I’m gasping, gasping, gasping—but whether it’s for air or the truth, I couldn’t say.

  “What is it, Olivia?” Ryder asks. “What are you thinking?”

  I straighten, willing my mind to focus, to work through the tangled threads of my thoughts. “I think I know why Callie is…”

  …disappearing.

  I grit my teeth and try again. “I think Callie is being deleted from our time stream.”

  Everyone starts talking at once.

  “What?” Logan’s eyes bulge.

  “That can’t be true,” Phoebe cries.

  “Is it possible?” Mikey asks his colleague, Preston—softly, so softly—and yet…I can hear every word as though they were imprinted on my brain.

  Preston nods. “It’s possible. But I want to know more about Olivia’s theory. Go on.”

  I take a deep breath. “Callie has the same symptoms as my mother, as many other recent recipients of future…”

  …memory. Fate fike it, this isn’t going to work. I can’t get through this explanation without dropping words all over the place. Or shouting them out and breaking everyone’s eardrums. I can’t. I’m the Shadow. I’m not—

  Ryder squeezes my hand and brings his mouth so close to my ear that his lips brush against my earlobe. “You’re a fighter, Olivia.”

  I let all the air leak out of my lungs until my mind is quiet. He’s right. I am.

  “My mother and the other patients get confused, walk into walls, have conversations with people who aren’t there.” My words are even. The rhythm of my speech is steady. “Callie’s symptoms are the most severe I’ve seen, but that may be because she’s not being treated.” I sum up everything I know about the amber formula: how my mom’s been injecting herself for the last decade, how the formula’s being mass produced, how the newest victims are receiving doses. And I don’t drop a single word.

  Next comes the unbelievable part, the part I’m not sure I even fully believe. “I think Callie and the others waver in and out of this time. They walk into furniture because where they are, those objects don’t exist. They talk to people we can’t see, because those people reside there and not here.” I lick my lips. “What I’m saying is: for long moments, Callie goes to a different world—a parallel world in a different time stream.”

  I peek at the faces around me. Ryder looks stunned, Angela’s eyes are glazed. But Preston is nodding.

  “Yes,” he says, rubbing his chin. I detect fine lines by his eyes and mouth, which make him appear older than his years. As old as his wife, Phoebe. It doesn’t surprise me. He might be the same physical age as Mikey, but he’s a traveler from the past. When he leaped over twenty years into the future—and got stuck here—he suffered hardships the rest of us could only imagine. He left behind the love of his life. He missed out on Callie’s childhood and didn’t even learn about Jessa’s existence until she was a teenager. He has since been reunited with his wife and Callie, but those heartaches leave traces you can never erase.

  “I theorized that a deterioration of the time stream was possible,” he says. “In fact, the team and I researched the issue thoroughly before I attempted to travel forward in time. We concluded that a single jump might cause a ripple in the stream, but the impact was so slight as to be negligible. However, a thousand ripples, on a daily basis, no matter how small, would add up. With enough repetition, these ripples would rip and tear at the fabric of time.”

  Logan gasps. “Future memory. Every day, a whole new group of seventeen-year-olds receives a memory from the future.”

  “Exactly,” Preston says. “It’s not time travel in the traditional sense of sending an object into the past. But memories can also alter a person’s actions, which in turn, create tension on the time stream.”

  I massage my temples. “That’s why these symptoms slowed down during the ten years that future memory was delayed. That’s also why these cases reappeared and escalated after Tanner discovered future memory once again.”

  “That’s not all,” Preston says grimly. “It gets worse.”

  Phoebe plucks at the sheets twisted around her daughter’s legs. “What could be worse than Callie disappearing from our world?” she asks, tears roughing up her voice.

  “If we’re right, then it’s not just going to affect Callie.” Preston stops, gives himself a shake, and then starts again. “Think of it as a virus of sorts. Not like a cold because it’s not contagious. We’re not talking about an infectious agent here. Rather, this condition is like a computer virus that slowly eats away at the program. Sooner or later, the virus will affect our entire time stream. Which means that Callie might be the first to go. But the rest of us will follow, one by one.”

  18

  Phoebe’s hands go wild, tugging and pulling at the sheet, as if that will somehow bring her daughter closer to her. As if that will somehow keep Callie and the rest of us safe. “Is it true?” she asks me, but it’s not a question, not really. She doesn’t actually want an honest answer. “You can see into the future. Is this what’s in store for us?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. And I don’t. Because I can’t see past the blank wall in my vision. After my own demise, I have no idea what will happen to everyone else.

  “What do we do?” She hugs herself, rocking back and forth.

  “We live,” Logan says. Mikey might be more muscular, Ryder’s definitely taller, but at this moment, Logan is the biggest presence in the tent. “We continue to live, day by day, the best way we know how. Because Callie showed us that the future is not given. She showed us that there’s always a way. And if there is, we’ll find it. We’re not going to give up when we don’t have all the information. And even if we did, even if all hope were lost, we still wouldn’t give up. Whether we have two weeks or two centuries remaining, we’re going to live for today. For each other and for this moment.

  “And I’m going to start by helping Callie.” He takes a deep breath. “Well? Now that we have a new diagnosis, what should we do?”

  Mikey blinks as though he’s returnin
g from a long journey. The energy inside the tent shifts, as though the rest of them, too, are shaking off the future.

  “If we’re to believe Olivia, it seems like they’ve developed an antidote,” Mikey says, authority snapping back into his voice. “Which means we need the amber formula. What do you say, Ryder? Ready for another mission?”

  “Anytime, sir,” Ryder answers immediately.

  The others discuss who should go and when they should leave. I feel as…ephemeral as ever. Like I might disappear any moment, like I’m Callie’s hand. The rest of them are freaking out over Callie’s transparency. What they don’t know is that I’ve always felt transparent. This is their world, their life. I’m merely a visitor, someone who passes through and observes, but who has no lasting impact one way or the other.

  Not anymore. Not since I tortured my mother. Not since I took a definitive action, for the first time in my life.

  “You don’t have to go on a mission,” I say faintly. “I have the formula. Right here with me.”

  They all gape at me, even Ryder. Especially Ryder.

  “I took an extra syringe when we were in the dispensary,” I say to him, my voice still fragile, still flimsy. “One that was filled with amber-colored liquid. I didn’t know for sure if Callie needed it. But I took it, just in case.” I rummage in my backpack, praying that the glass barrel didn’t break during our travels.

  It didn’t, thank the Fates. I hold up the syringe for everyone to see. The amber-colored liquid looks remarkably close to urine, but we all stare as if it is a thing of beauty.

  I move toward Callie’s unconscious form and am about to uncap the syringe when Mikey lifts his hand. “Wait a minute. I don’t want her injecting unidentified substances into Callie. How do we know the formula is what she says?”

  Logan tightens his hands on Callie, who is still out cold. “You’re the one who just told us we need to get ahold of the formula!”

  “If it’s the right formula. What if it’s not? Maybe it contains a tracking device. Maybe it will stop Callie’s heart instantly. We don’t know.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to trust,” Ryder bursts out. “It’s hard for me, too. But you don’t have to trust her. You can trust me.” He lowers his voice. “I’ll…I’ll stand in for her.”

  Mikey freezes. They all freeze. The tent is so still we could be a single frame of a holo-vid. I don’t know what just happened. I don’t know what Ryder means, other than that he’s vouching for me.

  “Are you sure, Ryder?” Mikey asks. The anger and tension has left his face, replaced by a rawness and vulnerability I don’t understand.

  Ryder straightens his shoulders. “As sure as I’ve ever been in my life.”

  “The last girl you were willing to stand in for was Jessa,” his dad says quietly.

  Ryder’s jaw clenches. “That should tell you how seriously I take my statement. I wouldn’t give it lightly.”

  Incredibly and unbelievably, Mikey nods. “In front of my very eyes, my son grows from a boy to a man. Let’s do this.”

  My head spins. I still don’t understand the dynamics, and I doubt reaching into the future would help me. But I know one thing: I’ve been given permission to inject Callie with the syringe.

  I walk to Callie’s limp body. Once upon a time, in a different world, she approached her six-year-old sister this way, with the barrel of a needle rolling in her hand, with the beat of fear in her heart. But I’m not trying to kill the person in front of me. I’m trying to save her.

  Oh dear Fate, I hope I’m right.

  I let all the air flow out of my body. And I plunge the syringe right into her chest.

  19

  A couple hours later, I’m lying on an inflatable mattress, and the cool fabric presses against the flushed heat of my skin. As night falls and my body temperature drops, the fabric will turn warm to provide me with maximum comfort. Since there’s only one mattress inside our tent, and Ryder insisted I take it, he’s making do with a bed of hastily gathered pine needles and a couple of animal skins. I’m not used to sleeping so low to the ground, and the scent of the earth is almost overpowering.

  At least Callie’s better. Fifteen tense minutes after the injection, her fever broke. She even woke, smiled wanly, and took sips of the vitamin water that Logan spoon-fed her. There was no more talk of transparent hands. When Ryder and I left, she was resting peacefully, her fingers intertwined with Logan’s.

  I roll over and stare at the nylon material of Ryder’s tent. Angela offered to let me stay with her and Mikey, but I didn’t want to sleep under the same tent as a man who would like nothing more than for me to disappear—at least from his campsite. Ryder had room, and although the idea of us sharing made Angela raise her eyebrows, in the end, she was too tired to argue. I don’t know what the etiquette of a teenage boy and girl sleeping together would be back in Eden City, but we’re not in civilization. I suppose, in a way, I never really was.

  Antsy, I flip over again. This time, however, I look right into Ryder’s deep, black eyes.

  “Oh.” I stifle a gasp. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “With all the acrobatics going on over there? Not a chance.”

  I blush. “I…uh, couldn’t settle my mind.”

  “Really?” he says dryly. “And here I thought you were practicing your routine for gold-star gymnastics.”

  “I wish. Not many opportunities for lessons when you’re in isolation.”

  “Not many out in the wilderness, either.”

  We stare at each other. The lines of his face are illuminated by the moonlight sliding in through the mesh window, and a bird calls in the distance. Here’s another reason why our childhoods weren’t so very different. The similarities are beginning to pile up so quickly I’m not sure I can count them all.

  “What did you mean when you said that you would stand in for me?” I blurt and then cringe. I’m quite sure I wouldn’t have asked in the daylight, but the darkness surrounds us like a cozy blanket, lulling me into safety.

  He rolls onto his back. “It meant I was giving you my support.”

  “I got that much.” I hesitate, not sure how far to push him. “But it seemed like your words had more significance to Mikey.”

  He doesn’t say anything. The bird outside continues to call…and sing…and screech like a cricket. Must be a mockingbird. Potts didn’t spend all those hours teaching me about bird calls for nothing.

  I turn back to the nylon wall. “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

  “No, I want to tell you. I’m just trying to figure out how.” His nails scrape against the mattress, like he might’ve reached for me and encountered the bedding.

  And that might just be my painfully wishful thinking.

  “I don’t trust very many people,” he begins, his words as slow and sticky as molasses.

  “No, really?” I joke. “And here I thought you went around buying knock-off gadgets and handing out credits to everyone you meet.”

  He doesn’t laugh. Limbo, the corners of his lips don’t even twitch. “Sorry,” I say. “I’ll be quiet now. Please go on.”

  “Seriously, I could count on one hand the number of people I’ve ever been able to rely on.” He holds up his hand to demonstrate. “Mikey. Angela. Once upon a time, Jessa. And more and more, Phoebe and Preston. So, I don’t give my trust easily, but once I do, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that person.”

  He raises himself onto an elbow. “Jessa and I were the only two kids in Harmony, so it was natural we became friends. But I think we would’ve been friends no matter where we met. We had an instant connection, like we’d known each other from a former life.”

  I swallow hard. The instant connection, the lifelong friendship. How could I ever hope to compete with that?

  “One day, Jessa and I were climbing trees, even though Angela had told us not to. We attached a rope made of animal sinew to one of the branches and swung from it. Well, the branch broke, and Jessa dislocated her s
houlder.”

  He breathes faster. “All the adults became frantic, as they were with every injury out in the wilderness. I heard lots of shouting about how Mikey was going to have to hurt her, to get her shoulder back into place.”

  “‘I’ll do it,’ I stood up and shouted. ‘I’ll stand in for her. Don’t hurt Jessa. Hurt me.’ You see, I didn’t understand. In all of my misplaced nobleness, I thought I was offering to take her punishment.” He rolls his eyes. “Ridiculous, wasn’t I? The adults got a good chuckle out of it, Mikey popped Jessa’s shoulder back into place, and that’s how the term ‘standing in’ was born.”

  I blink and blink again. My heart feels like the air a moment before it bursts into rain. Because of the little boy who offered to sacrifice for Jessa, and more importantly, because of the grown-up guy who offered to stand in for me. “You…you must’ve cared about her very much.”

  “Yeah. Well.” He studies his knuckles. “I guess that’s why I took her betrayal so hard.”

  I shouldn’t ask. It’s none of my business, truly. But for some reason, I have to say the words. For some reason, I need confirmation of my suspicions.

  “Do you…are you…in love with her?”

  He snaps up his head. “Fates no. I mean, I loved her, of course, and maybe everyone in Harmony expected us to end up together. But she was always like a sister to me.” He rubs his forehead. “No, that’s not accurate. She wasn’t just a sister. You see, for a long time, Jessa and I were the most important people in the world to each other. Callie was gone; she wasn’t close to her mother. Angela and Mikey loved me, I never doubted that. I still don’t. But they had each other. An entire community to lead. And then little Remi was born, and she was the center of all our worlds. So, Jessa and I, we were a team, you know? The two of us against everybody else.

  “Then she met Tanner, and everything changed. I was grounded from seeing her, but I don’t think she missed me as much as I missed her. Even before the betrayal, something…shifted between us. I was no longer first in her life.” He grimaces. “Fates, I sound like such a baby, don’t I?”