I am awoken by Sato's foot nudging at my back. "Get up," he says. I look up at him and see he's holding shackles in his hands. I'm a prisoner now. "Time for chores," he says. My entire body is stiff from last night's fight, as if my scabbed over wounds are now holding my body in one painful position. I stretch and feel a sharp, stabbing pain throughout the left side of my body.

I clear my throat. "I'm not the mole, General," my tired voice squeaks.

"Whatever you are, it was your frequency signal that led the droids here, so now it is your responsibility to help clean up their mess. Let's go," he says, motioning for me to hold out my hands.

I do and he secures the shackles to my wrists, then bends down and straps the other cuffs around my ankles.

"Follow me," he says. There are bags under his eyes, probably from staying up all night to plan the counterattack.

I follow him out into the great room.

"Where's my mom?" I ask.

"She's meeting with the oncologist Dr. Guzman in the detention center, as planned. She'll be well taken care of. We have Dr. Kunkle with her now."

"Did you check anyone else for frequencies? I promise you I am not the mole."

"We did."

"And?" I ask.

He stops and turns back to me before exiting into the early morning sunlight. "No one else showed signs of frequency waves. Whether or not you realized it, you led the droids here."

"That's impossible, it wasn't me. It was Nate!" I yell from frustration, but my throat is so scratched that the words hardly come out.

He puts his palm up to my face to silence me. "I suggest you just stay quiet."

He pushes the door open and leads me into the dawn. Wood chips, fabrics, and furs are scattered around the camp, rolling against the dry dirt. Sleeping bodies are gathered in the dining areas, guarded by armed Deathless soldiers. On the shoreline is a pile of limp bodies, and in the lake rests three dead Prowler machines. The others are scattered throughout camp and in the surrounding arid lands.

General Sato leads me toward the pile of lifeless bodies. There's a jerrican of gasoline beside the pile, and Sato lifts it from the ground. He shoves it into my shackled hands, and says, "Pour."

I begin immediately—not because I want to—but because the smell of gasoline might be strong enough to block out the smell of decomposing flesh; but it doesn't. It only makes me more nauseated.

I shake the rest of the gasoline onto the soldiers at the bottom of the pile and step away. The General stares at the pile for a few moments before pulling a box of matches from his pocket. He quickly strikes a match against the box, and throws the tiny spark into the pile. Within seconds, it transforms into a great mess of flames, and I have to back up so I won't be engulfed in it.

The General places the matches back in his pocket, and pulls out a folded sheet of paper. He opens it slowly, like a morning glory opening for the sun, and hands it to me.

"Read it," he orders over the crackling of the flames.

I look at the paper and see it's a poem called "A Soldier's Walk Toward Death." I clear my throat and read, but the smoke stings my eyes. All I can do is focus on getting through the words until a wind blows the smoke dust away from me.

"Walking now toward death,

Only one path to choose.

Wasting away with my last breaths,

I've nothing left to lose.

I will return to my brothers,

Who've marked the path of sudden glory.

I stray from the path of others,

For this, too, must be my story.

I see my brothers now in sun,

In sweet laughter and in rain,

In wheat fields through which we had to run,

And yet, I feel no pain.

No tears for having lost,

No screams against white light.

Ready now to pay the cost.

Against death, I will not fight.

Heartbeat slows to the turn of earth,

Lungs become breathless.

My brothers welcome my rebirth,

For now I am deathless."

I take a moment to let the words sing over the pile of Deathless, and seep into my skin.

"It's a poem by Franklin Kelly," Sato finally says. His voice is dry and matter-of-fact. "I found it in one of the anthologies in the library, and ripped it out. I read it every time I lose anyone. That was the first time I've heard it in months. Thanks to you."

I look into the pile and am so filled with guilt, I consider joining the burning bodies.

"Do you know what it means to be 'Deathless?'" he asks.

I shake my head.

"To be Deathless doesn't mean that you won't ever die. It means that your existence will never be forgotten, because you chose to live your life in a way that made future lives better, no matter their race, religion, gender, or status. When we fight, we are fighting for the future of everyone who outlives us, not just the people we deem worthy. And no one else, especially not Roberts and Cooper or those who would kill us, can change that." He continues to stare into the pile. "I hope you understand that one day. You didn't win last night," he finishes.

Now I see why Declan trusts General Sato: He truly believes. He's not leading us for personal gain or notoriety. He's leading us because he actually wants us to survive, to live on. I begin to cry, both from shame and from the stinging of the smoke in my eyes. "I understand, I understand," is all I can say.

Sato snaps his finger, and a soldier comes to shove a broom into my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs.

"Clean up the rubble. Make piles," Sato says, snatching the poem from my hands and walking away. I turn around and see there are two Deathless soldiers with guns pointed at me. How easy would it be for one of them to shoot me? I doubt anyone would even question their choice.

"Get to work, rat," one of them barks.

I begin pushing the broom over the dirt, gathering debris into piles. With each step, I move farther and farther away from the stack of burning bodies, but the smell of burning flesh lingers in my hair.

By the time I've finished making the piles, the rest of the camp is gathering for lunch. No one has stopped to say anything to me, but they have all made it a point to glare at me in disdain.

I wish Mom were here, but I'm sure she's receiving the same cold treatment. At least she's with Declan, I think. He'll stick up for her. That is, unless everyone assumes he was in on it too.

"Alright, rat, drop the broom," the soldier orders me, and I do as he says. "One of the science geeks is bringing down your lunch."

I hope it's Declan, so I search the crowd around the dining area for his face; but he's nowhere to be seen. "Here he comes," the soldier says, and I scan the crowd.

Nate.

He's walking toward me with a tray of food and a smile. I feel the anger bubbling inside of me, but I push it down. If I strangle him in front of the soldiers, they may actually shoot me, and I still have to make it to the bunker. I'd like the opportunity to at least say goodbye to Daniel, which is all I've been thinking about all morning. I'll go to the bunker, I'll be turned over to the government, I'll ask whoever is set to kill me to say goodbye to Daniel for me, and then I'll accept my parting from this world. And that will be the end of Isla Blume.

"Thanks, boys, I've got it from here," Nate says to the soldiers, patting one of them on the back.

"You've got 10 minutes," he says. "Then it's back to work for her."

"Got it, thanks," Nate replies, and shoos them away. They ignore him and remain firmly on guard. Nate shrugs and looks at me, smiling. I want to leap at his throat. "Sit down, Isla. You've been working all day," he says.

I sit. Not because he told me to, but because my legs feel like collapsing beneath me.

"How are you doing?" he asks, taking a seat across from me and scooting the tray over.

"Are you kidding?" I ask as calmly as possible.

"What?"

"I'm in shackles, everyone thinks I'm the mole, my mom is locked up, and they are going to kill me once I'm handed over. How do you think I'm doing?" The soldiers raise their weapons with the tone of my voice, so I try to calm down. "How did you do it, Nate? Were there walkies or something you used to communicate with the bunker?"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," he says.

"Cut the act, Nate. You sentenced me to death. Don't you get that? I thought you wanted to help me."

"I do, but I told you... I can't."

I fight off every urge not to scream.

"Isla," he says between bites of bread. I still haven't touched mine. I'm starving, but at the same time, I'm too furious to eat. "Do you remember the numbers?"

"What's the point?"

"Do you remember—?"

"—Yes, I remember. 3-5-8. What about them?"

"I just wanted to make sure you remembered," he says, standing up.

"You're leaving? Seriously?"

"I have to go. There are new plans Isla, and we have to prepare."

"You can still fix this, Nate. Just tell them the truth," I plead, but the soldiers raise their guns again.

"See you in the bunker, Isla," he says, walking away. "I'm done here," I hear him tell the guards, who come back around me, their guns focused on my head.

After a full afternoon of sorting the piles into different materials—woods, fabrics, or furs—General Sato returns me to the library, locking the door behind me, which is my cue to lie down in exhaustion. I want to sleep, and even though my body is screaming in defeat, my mind is alive with rage.

I pull myself over to the L's, and slide my favorite book off the shelf for comfort. To Kill a Mockingbird. I hold it to my chest for a few minutes before finally opening to page one.

I'll read until I fall asleep, I think, but before I can stop myself, I've reached the last lines. I'm finally exhausted enough to close my eyes and sleep, but shortly after, the lock on the door startles me awake.

"Hello?" a familiar voice calls from behind the cracked door.

"Declan?" I ask, sitting up.

He peeks around the door before letting himself in the room. The door hangs open, an armed guard just outside the room.

"I have something for you," he says.

"How is my mom?"

"She's fine."

"What's going on?"

He shakes his head. "I can't say, but I know you're not the mole, Isla. I tried to tell them. They don't believe me. They say I've grown too close to you, and I'm blinded by our friendship. But even if that were true, it wouldn't change the fact that you're like a little sister to me," he says, sitting beside me. He smiles, picking up the book beside me. "Remember when you told me your name was Scout?"

I smile for the first time in nearly two days. "Declan...." I want to apologize to him, but I'm not sure what I'd be apologizing for.

Either way, he stops me, pulling a box from his pocket and handing it to me. My shackles clank against the floor as I reach for it.

"What is this?" I ask.

"Open it."

I lift the top of the box away, and see a beautiful necklace. A thick silver chain loops through an even thicker pendant with a green stone in its center.

"It's beautiful, Declan, thank you. But why?"

He smiles, ignoring my compliment. "I wanted to find a way to still be with you during the attack. So, your mom and I stayed up last night putting this together for you. It's a spectroscope. What this does is it collects sunlight in the stone looking thing, and it uses photosynthesis to convert that light into energy. There are buttons at the top and bottom of the pendant, which, if pressed simultaneously, will send out an electric pulse that we will be able to track on our devices here. Then, if you need us, voila: We come and bring you home."

"That's if I'm not killed first."

"You won't be. They can't. Someone has to know you're innocent."

I have felt so much hatred and anger in the past few days that I burst into tears over his kindness. "Thank you, Declan."

His eyes redden. "No problem."

"So my mom's alright?" I whisper.

He nods. "All clear, but she still has to stay back," he whispers.

I nod, and reach to rest my tired hands on his. "I just want to say, in case I don't see you again—"

"—you will—"

"—But just in case I don't, I just want to say thank you, again, for all you've done for me. Would it be weird if I said I loved you? Like, as a brother?" I ask through tears.

His eyes become glassy, and he shakes his head.

"Okay, good, because...." I can't finish my words, the tears would suffocate me. "Yeah... Can you also tell my mom that?"

He begins to cry, and shakes his head again. "No, you can tell her when you get back."

"Okay, but just in case, tell her that I love her too, okay?"

He nods and pushes the tears from his face. "Let me put the necklace on for you."

I give it to him and he wraps it around my neck, clasping it behind my hair.

"Gorgeous," he says, and clears his throat. "I was actually sent in here to get you. It's um... it's time to go."

"Go where?"

He pulls a key from his pocket, and unlocks my shackles. "Sorry I didn't do that sooner," he mumbles. I rub my wrists and ankles. I've never been so happy to see them bare. "Everyone is getting ready to go to the bunker now. I'm supposed to take you over to get your uniform," he says.

"Declan," I say nervously. "I can't die."

He wipes another tear from his face. "No you can't," he says. "You're deathless."

"I'm mortal, Declan. What if I don't come back?"

"You will. But just in case, you should know that you'll always be with me." He holds my shoulders to keep us both from shaking. "Your friendship and your belief in me... that, at least... that is what you will leave behind. You have made my life better. That's deathless. Not capital D deathless, just normal adjective deathless."

"Thank you," I sigh, trying not to cry.

"Alright, let's go," the soldier from the hall orders. "We're moving out."

"Declan," I say desperately.

He pulls me to my feet. "I will see you soon," he says, but he doesn't look me in the eyes. I don't think he can. He pulls me into a hug. "Just remember, if you get lost, press the pendant, and we'll find you, okay?"

I nod.

"Okay, she's ready," he says, nearly pushing me into the soldier's arms. He doesn't look at me, he just stands in the center of the library, his back to me, and I watch his body shake as I'm pulled away.