"You're alive," I say, it comes out more like a question. It doesn't click. Even with him standing in front of me. Dieter folds his arms over his chest. He's dropped a shocking amount of weight in less than a week. He's still round, but it's much less pronounced than it should be. He has the look of a house pet that's been left to fend for itself too long.

"I am." He runs his tongue over his top lip. "Find that girl of yours?"

Instinctively I edge over to block his view of the storage room door. He watches me with almost lazy interest.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says, his s's drag. A sneer breaks the casualness of his expression, his upper lip curls back, revealing cracked white teeth. "What was the cost of your pathetic rescue mission?"

Half-shrugged out of my skin as I am, I don't understand what he means. He doesn't talk much like Dieter. There's something dark swimming in his words, something cracked. The other Dieter—the one we lost in the forest—was just scared.

"How many people died?" he clarifies his original question.

"Five," I breathe. "Not including you."

He makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. The sneer warps. He lifts a newstab like the ones the Whitecoats carry around and pokes at it. His eyes wander over the screen as it lights up. "Five or... twenty-eight?"

He has to be pulling that number out of thin air because even that first night on the side of the hill there weren't twenty-eight of us. Alright, so he's out of his mind.

"You attacked them." He flings the tablet at me, it bangs into the wall and the screen flickers. I glance at it just long enough to catch a giant headline on the screen.

WIND WITCH KILLS DOZENS

"What the hell?" I mutter.

"You don't remember? It was only a day ago, is your memory that bad? Is it worse than mine? Does it hurt to think?" he seethes, molten hate bubbled on the corners of his split lips. Spit flies from his mouth. He's worked himself into a rage, red face and clenched fists and all. "They were doing their jobs!"

More and more of me sloughs off as the argument continues. I can't cool it enough to drag my mind back to its proper place.

"Since when did you side with them?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Since they showed me I didn't have a choice." He tugs the collar of his shirt down to show off violent red welts encircling his neck. His lips part in a wide grimace, revealing the ruined teeth that fill his mouth. Electric shock torture, and starvation, disorientation. The Whitecoats brainwashed him.

There were a few other Experiments they tried brainwashing on, troublemakers, one or two who tried to start a gang. After, those Experiments spent their time staring at nothing with blank eyes. It was freaky, but at least they kept their mouths shut. Dieter can't seem to stop chatting.

His expression drops, unsteady eyes fixing on something behind me. Turning, I find myself face to face with another ghost. Blazing stars, he'd better not be brainwashed too.

"Trick," King rumbles. His teeth, or what I can see of them, seem normal. Then he lifts his hands to show off the narrow black bands clamped around both of his wrists. Old-school shock restraints. "How is Delilah? Skyelar?"

He doesn't ask about the others.

"Alive," I answer, and that's enough for him. He nods once and shifts his attention to Dieter.

Dieter stands with his head cocked so far to the left it's practically sideways, eyes narrowed. A string of drool drips from his grimacing lips.

"You're not supposed to be in here, Dieter," King says, borderline delicate in his tone. Dieter reacts like he pulled a gun. His expression morphs into terror, mouth gaping. He claps his palm over his ear and his eyes bug.

"No no no no no," he mumbles. "No no, I'm going, no worry, no need." He turns on his heels, a motion interrupted by a stagger to the side. As he hurries away down the hall, he wrenches his free arm behind him and flaps his hand in what might be a signal to King. In turn, King clears his throat, pulling my attention back to him. He tugs at his ear, or rather, at something hooked over his ear. A slender wire ending in a smooth, flat disc pops free and he holds it up as explanation.

"You shouldn't have come back. They're using us to hunt each other." He lifts the shock restraints again. "They sent me to get you."

I open my mouth only to fumble for words. I'm spiraling down and down and down and my skin is peeling apart. he motions for me to go on while he's tucking his transmitter back in place.

"We thought you died." I say for the sake of making noise. My voice sounds distant, but it grounds me a tiny bit.

"I almost did, but the 'coats aren't that nice. The exits are blocked, you can surrender, or I can drag you back to a cell."

I nod, popping my knuckles. Now that the Whitecoats know I'm here, there's no way they'll let me walk. I'm a liability, a danger.

"Where's the girl? I'll steer clear."

I tip my head toward the hall that leads to the x-ray room. He grunts in confirmation. I appreciate the gesture.

"King."

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to duel you." It's true. To win I might have to kill him, knowing he was part of Maverick's group. Maybe I didn't know King well, but Mav did, Mav trusted him.

"You could come willingly," he suggests, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Not a chance." He will drag me to the Whitecoats bloody and unconscious, or not at all. I bounce on the balls of my feet, shaking out tense muscles. A humorless grin spreads across his face.

"Good, consider this a screw you for getting Maverick killed." He jackhammers his heel onto the floor. The linoleum cracks and a spike of grey stone rockets towards me. I dive out of the way, ramming the door full-force. It pops off its hinges and clatters into the room beyond.

The dome rises up in front of me like a leering mountain. Shiny and beckoning, strange from this new angle. I wrench one of the aluminum rods from its anchor to create a spear of sorts. The metal comes away jagged on both ends. A rock clips my ear. Hot, stinging.

My opponent kicks more fist-sized hunks of concrete out of the smooth floor to hurl. I duck and roll. Not quick enough. One of the chunks catches me by the stomach. I tumble over and let momentum carry me back onto my feet, breath knocked out.

I dodge another barrage, lunging closer with every step. Closing the gap. Taking away whatever advantage he has. Another step and I'm close enough now for the metal spike to be useful. With a shout, I drive the rod into his shoulder. He screams through clenched teeth. Stone rockets up, striking me hard. Vomit rockets up to the back of my throat. That's gonna bruise. I grunt. The pillar shrinks and I stagger. Dizzy. Can't breathe.

I swing before another can erupt. My fist connects, weak, but enough to make him stumble. Blood soaks his shirt, dripping on the concrete floor. Beyond him, a wraith made up of matchsticks and spring curls wobbles over the broken door.

What—

what—

what—

Shit. I plant my left foot and kick up sharply with my right, catching Bakari across the neck. This time he goes down, bad planning on my part. A brief motion from him sets a ripple across the floor, knocking my feet from under me. My head cracks on the stone. Heat bursts across my temple. I roll to my feet, ignoring the twinge of what's probably a broken rib. Blood runs down my eye and I swipe it away, scouring the dome for Elle. Terror turns my nerves to ice when I find her swaying in the middle of the room, Dieter looming behind her. His bloodshot eyes glued to the back of her head.

I make it one step, and the concrete erupts, sledgehammering me into—through—out the wall. Stars explode in my eyes, ringing fills my ears. For a solid three seconds I must be as close as you can get to passing out without collapsing. When I come to, the first thing I hear is my own groan. Rubble crumbles off my aching body.

"Dude!" Sky skids to a stop at my side, eyes wide.

"Elle," I gasp. He tears into the building. Scrabbling to my feet, I list hard to the side, tripping on broken slabs of concrete before I catch myself. I drag myself through the hole in the wall in time to see Sky hit the wall head first and collapse to the floor. Dieter strolls towards them, broken teeth clattering. Bakari has hesitated partway to the hole in the wall, watching Dieter like he's deciding whether to stop him or not. I make the decision for him, by turning him into a Bakari-shaped missile. He smacks into Dieter, sending them both tumbling across the wide open room.

I drop to my knees beside Sky. He's out cold, half-curled around Elle, but still breathing. Blood mats his hair where he hit his head. Elle clings to him, chest heaving too fast. She screams. An invisible force clips my shoulder, ripping through it and striking her head-on. She hits the wall, slumps, eyes closed. Whipping around, I see Dieter swipe at the air. Seconds later another wall cuffs my left side. What the hell.

These attacks feel different from aerokinesis, but I don't know what else it could be. I can feel the walls ripple through me, buzzing my muscles and bones like electricity. A third wall strikes head-on, sending me to the ground.

"Like it?" Dieter leers. "I'm the world's very first magnokinetic. Neat, huh?"

I don't grace him with an answer. I get to my feet, mind racing. The room spins. Blood still pours from my nose and the blood loss is beginning to make me lightheaded. The adrenaline rush that helped keep the pain from my ribs at bay is wearing off fast. Dieter swipes his arm again, and I brace for impact while I scrape my brain for a way to get to him.

A gust of roaring wind collides with Dieter, slamming him through aluminum webbing. He manages to cling to the lip of the dome and drag himself back up with an indignant shriek.

Bakari smashes his heel into the floor, enveloping Dieter's arms in stone.

"Stay out of it, Dieter," he snaps. The reprieve is short-lived as Dieter works up another ear-murdering screech and the stone casing explodes. Shrapnel splatters the room and red drenches his arms from elbow to fingertip.

"I've got Dieter," Delilah says, raising her own arms as she strides past.

That leaves King for me. I close the space between us, grab him. My fist sinks into his gut and all the air exits his lungs with a whoosh. He tries to stagger back, jamming a pillar between us.

"That was nothing, we're doing fine," he coughs into his transmitter. "A few more minutes and I'll be done." I catch him by the wrists and slam him into the wall. It swallows one of my hands up to the heel of my palm, and he whips his head forward, smashing his forehead into my nose. For the second time stars blind me. I release King, hand jumping reflexively to my broken nose. Copper floods my mouth, blood gushes out both nostrils. He ducks under my arm and escapes, but I hook my foot over his ankle to trip him. He catches himself, curling to avoid my next kick.

Wrenching my hand from the wall, I stalk towards him. Sweat rolls of his temple. Veins bulge in his neck, his breath comes quick, shallow, and ratty. He can't quite scramble to his feet fast enough. My first punch bruises his ribs, my second punch breaks them with an audible crack. I grab him by the shoulders and wheel him around to crush into the wall as hard as I can, the impact leaves a deep dent.

He slumps, gasping for breath that won't come. He's fighting to keep his eyes open. With one hand holding him up by the chest, I grab the side of his head, pull it back and crack it against the wall. His legs buckle as he loses consciousness. My hand clutching his head keeps him upright. All of me screams to beat his skull into the wall one or two or three more times until it's finished for good.

I'm so close to doing it.

A high-pitched cackle wrenches me away from King. Dieter teeters on the edge of the dome, blood dripping from both arms while he leers down into it. Delilah is nowhere to be seen. The rage in my chest is hot and living as I cross the space, fists clenched. He's too enamored with the inside of the dome to notice me. A kid watching a trapped bug. I pull back to strike him, but he lurches before I ever lay a finger on him. The wind bumps him and down he goes. He hits the bottom with a resounding crack. Well, there's that problem solved. I peer over the edge, find Delilah on her knees at the bottom of the dome. A metal rod spears her arm, that hand sags limp at her side. Dieter stirs, pale face flushing magenta. He lifts his hand to throw a magno-blast, and in one quick motion Delilah rips the spear from her arm and brings it down on his head. He crumples, unconscious.

Breathlessly, she drags herself to her feet. Sweat drenches her forehead and she clamps a hand over the gash.

Without a glance up, she turns toward the door and says, "I'll meet you outside."

Get out of here, right. I shake loose my fist and head over to where Sky is sitting up.

"Can you walk?" I ask, picking up Elle.

He slurs an incoherent sentence. His eyes won't stay in one place. I grimace.

"Right. Okay, come on." I shift Elle to one arm and loop my other arm under his shoulders to help him to his feet. He leans heavily on me, which is bad because the light-headedness is making me wobbly. We stumble over the debris and through the hole into the ashy open space. Delilah meets us at the edge of the Compound with her sleeve torn off and wrapped tight around her wound. As we escape over the spiky remains of the chain-link fence, we hear shouting behind us. The Whitecoats. They must have discovered their pawns in the observation room. The commotion urges us farther, faster, we go west instead of south this time and soon the Compound is blotted out of sight by loose-knit forest.

The sun is low in the sky, a breeze plays in the tops of the trees surrounding us. I slowly wrestle into my skin, cramming all the pieces I can find back into place as we all stagger on. Nothing feels right, and the horror of what I did to Bakari—what I was going to do—sticks to my skin like slimy residue.

I am becoming less and less human. The idea, or rather, the knowledge, scares me less than it used to, less than it should. Not for the first time, I wonder how many more times I can do this before Hendrix Sanchez is gone forever.