The Deathless Trilogy

1.19. 358

After lunch we practice with the program a few more times, now with our virtual troops, and I try not to notice that Mom continues to die. I replay her words in my head—No matter what happens, I'll always be with you—and remember that once we've completed our mission, I will wake up and see her smiling face. Now if only I could assure her safety in the real attack.

When we finish for the day, Declan unplugs us so we can depart to our regular laboratories to put the final touches on the prototypes used in the program. As soon as Nate is unplugged, he storms out of the room. I look at Gabriela to see if she will follow him, but she is a ghost in her chair, pale and barely there, probably reflecting on her recurring deaths in the program. Mom is strong, but Gabriela isn't. Her virtual deaths have taken a toll on her.

Phoebe looks at me. "Go see what's going on with Nathan," she tells me.

"Why me?" I ask, but she simply waves her hand to shoo me away. I roll my eyes, but stand from the chair and rush out of the room to catch up to him.

Once in the hallway, I catch him going into the biology sector. "Nate!" I call, but he doesn't hear me. Or maybe he does; he just doesn't stop. Who knows with this boy. I run after him.

When I walk into the laboratory, I see it's empty. All other biologists must be working with the mechanics people to perfect our prototypes for the knock out compound.

"Nate?" I call.

"In here," I hear him say from the room where he and Dr. Patel usually work, but I can't see him.

I walk over the bridge and past Declan's morning glories, and find Nate sitting at a counter with his back to me.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, mostly insincerely, since he's throwing a fit. No response. "Is this about the immersion? You shouldn't feel bad; I died a few times too."

"It's not the program," he mumbles, barely audible, his back still turned to me.

"What is it then?" Again, no response. "To be honest... I'm scared. I'm scared about the attacks. Those immersions weren't particularly successful. Are you feeling something similar?"

He says nothing. It looks like he's working on something, but I can't see what. Now I'm getting frustrated. How is it my job to check on him?

"Well, whatever is going on with you, snap out of it. People need you to be on your game. Did you see Gabriela in there? She's freaking out."

"So?" he mumbles.

"So you two are, like, together now, aren't you?"

He spins around in the chair, and I can finally see his face: His eyes look older with worry, and a five o'clock shadow darkens his jaw line. He sits staring at me, like he did in the immersion, as if he's trying to communicate something with his mind. Something he can't say.

"I'm not with Gabriela. We're just friends. Not even that, actually," he says.

I scoff. "Right, which is why you've been hanging out with her so much since she came."

"I wanted to see what she knew about the survivors that have been collected. You're not the only person who has family back at the bunker. My cousin may still be there. I want to say goodbye to her. We didn't leave on good terms."

"Then save her. Save her like I'm going to save my family, and then we can all come back together," I say.

"I'm not making it out of the bunker."

"Sure you will."

"No, Isla, I'm not. But you will. It's important that you survive. Not because they need you to kill the President, not because I like you, but because you should be one of the people leading the redevelopment of our country. Not Phoebe, or Winston, or Alexander, or Gunther."