I am strapped into my seat inside one of the Prowlers, but I fidget to get comfortable beneath the strangely patterned armor they've thrown over our uniforms. It looks like a spider has spun a web over our rib cages, each strand a thin overlay of tungsten. I'm not sure it's purpose. It can't be to protect us from being shot, because the gaps in the web are large enough to fit a bullet. I think it must be to make us look like glittering, ominous skeletons.

Mitchell apparently worked all night to convert the remaining Prowler droids into Trojan horses, within which our entire army now waits. He added a few rows of seats against the inner walls going down into the chamber, each connected to a sloped walkway that leads to our exit. Once we are in the bunker, we will all use these walkways to leave the Prowlers' bellies and attack. We've practiced our exit a few times now, so it's firmly in my mind.

Mitchell opens our hatch for one last check before we head out. "Remember everyone: If you are feeling lightheaded, pull your oxygen mask over your face. They are located on the wall beside your seats. Underneath your seats are your gas masks, which you will need to wear when we enter the bunker so that you remain unaffected by the knock out gas. Any questions?" His words echo in the chamber. "Okay. Remember that you're all heroes today. Good luck," he says before closing the hatch door and leaving us in darkness. Our black uniforms camouflage us within the Prowlers' belly. They'll never see us coming, unless, of course, Nate has already told them. In which case, they'll be waiting for us.

This will never work, I think, but I push the negativity from my mind. Declan told me that I'll be coming home to him and Mom, and I'm going to hold on to that hope. It is my last bit of comfort.

Phoebe sits beside me, since apparently now I'm under her watch in the bunker, and Winston and Alexander sit across from me.

Winston catches my gaze. "You look exhausted."

"I haven't slept."

"Rest," he says. "It will be a while before we make it to the bunker."

I want to tell him that I'm okay, that I'm strong enough to stay awake, but I have no reason to lie. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"People on death row used to get last meals. Consider this yours," he says. That's more like what I expected to hear.

The Prowler begins moving. We are on our way. I close my eyes to try to block everything out, and despite the noise, despite my imminent death, I fall asleep.

***

Three days pass inside the Prowler. I've caught up on my sleep, endured angry stares from nearly everyone around me, and lost my dignity trying to use the makeshift restroom hatch at the bottom of the machine's hull. As if marching toward death wasn't torture enough.

I try to block out everything, and I close my eyes to dream. In my mind, I'm back at home. My real home. My whole family is there, and we're laughing around the firepit. I belong. I'm happy.

But then I am shaken awake. "Isla. Isla, wake up," I hear Phoebe saying. I feel hands on the back of my head, and then I feel pressure against my face. I open my eyes to see her placing the gas mask over my face. "We're almost here," she whispers.

"Thank you," I try to say, but she has taped my mouth shut. When I reach up to remove it, I see my hands are bound together too. Not only am I a prisoner, but now I'm going into battle without a weapon or any prayer of defending myself.

Behind me is one of the air holes, so I turn to look out of it. Through the space, I recognize the yard outside the bunker. Then I see a few soldiers watching the Prowlers and guiding them into the mouth of the bunker. They are shouting something to soldiers that I can't see, but I can't hear what they are saying.

My entire body buzzes with nerves. I'll be dying soon.

Then our Prowler comes to an abrupt halt.

"Stop!" I hear one of the soldiers outside yell.

Oh my god, they've caught us already. This is it. We're all dead.

"What's going on?" I hear another soldier yell.

"We need to open the door more, that first one is scraping the top."

"I told you that the clearance was taller, but you never listen!"

"Shut up, Tom." I hear metal scraping together, and then I hear a latch locking into place. "There! Fixed, no big deal."

"Keep 'em coming, you idiots!" I hear a different soldier yell from farther away.

Then the Prowler starts back into motion. We pass through the cement entryway that Alexander and I would virtually run down as we shot at soldiers. It's much calmer now. The screeching gears echo against the walls, but I keep thinking about what it will sound like once we start our attack, which makes it seem eerily quiet.

My hands, though bound, shake in my lap, so I press my palms together. I breathe deeply to steady my nerves, but that's when our Prowler stops again.

"Alright, boys, let's see what we got here," a soldier outside says.

This is it. Maybe Nate didn't tell them we were coming after all. Maybe he didn't have time, or he couldn't risk contacting them, however he did it.

All of us unbuckle our seatbelts, stand, and arm ourselves. All of us but me. Phoebe unbuckles me and pulls me to her side.

I hear the slow hissing of the knock out gas escaping from one of the Prowlers.

"What the hell is that?" I hear one of the soldiers yell.

The door unlatches, and light slowly leaks into the chamber from around the doorway.

"Put your weapons down!" I hear Mitchell yell.

I hear the echoes of guns against the ground.

"Now!"

The door flies open, and we begin pouring out of our Prowler. It's like we're free falling and there's no turning back. "Stay close!" I hear Phoebe yell, as she pushes me out of the Prowler. We run across the chamber, over the exit ramp, and into the light of the bunker.

I don't want to die.

I imagine this is still an immersion. I scan the room and see bunker soldiers, lost, confused, and, just like in the immersions, waiting for death. I watch as Deathless soldiers pick them off, and I frantically check to make sure Daniel isn't one of them. But there's no sign of him.

The movement in the room slows, and I find myself walking over more bodies than ground. "Move out!" someone yells.

We all break away to our stairwells with our groups of soldiers, and Phoebe pushes me along with our group through the door. An alarm sounds.

"We're back," Winston sings.

Winston and Alexander lead our group of soldiers down the stairwell, and Phoebe covers the rear. We run down what feels like a thousand stairs. I can't see what's ahead, and despite the hallway echoing with gunfire, we continue forward. We must be doing well.

"We're here!" someone shouts.

I see light up ahead as Winston swings the exit open, and once again the sound of gunfire is all I can hear. We continue forward into the fight.

My mind is blank. I can't think of anything other than survival right now, and it reminds me of when we were back at home, after our family was taken from us. All I worried about then was survival too, but surviving meant something else entirely then. Seeing the girl dead in her library seemed unimaginable then. Now there are bodies all around me, and I hardly notice.

Phoebe grabs my arm and pulls me toward her. "When we get up there, we will head down the corridor directly to our left," she orders.

This is it, I think. I need to break away from her if I want any chance at survival.

We run toward the doorway, when I hear a sharp hiss and see Phoebe fall beside me.

"She's down!" someone yells behind me.

I turn and see a group of government soldiers descending the stairs.

She winces in pain, holding her neck. There is a large dart sticking out of it. "Winston," she screams. "Winston, get Isla!" But when he doesn't answer, she looks at me standing over her. "Run, you idiot," she yells.

The soldiers are getting closer. I make a choice: I could either stay and be caught or I could run.

I run. She wanted me dead, anyway. I can't worry about her.

My legs burn beneath me and my head spins with sounds and thoughts and nerves. I don't even process what's happening until I have escaped the stairwell. I am halfway down the hallway to the left, the hallway where the President's quarters are. Winston, Alexander, and their group of soldiers are fighting in the main area, unaware of what has just happened to their comrade. I remember this room from the program, but I am running too quickly to recognize anything but bodies—living and dying—fighting and screaming and bleeding. Winston obviously didn't hear Phoebe's screams, so I make my break.

There's an open closet filled with mops and other cleaning supplies, and I run in, shutting the door behind me. I turn the lock. I'm no longer in control of my body: I collapse to the ground, tears running down my cheeks. I remove my mask and the tape over my mouth, and I bite the knot around my wrists until it comes undone. I shake, crying uncontrollably, and rock my body back and forth.

The door knob turns and whoever is outside pounds against the door. Someone is trying to come in. I wrap my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming, and press my feet against the door. Maybe they'll realize it's locked, and go away.

Whoever is outside shoots at the handle, and the bullet bursts through. I curl into the corner screaming.

This is where I die: In a closet, surrounded by cleaning supplies.

I see the person's hand reach through the bullet hole and unlock the door. It swings open, and as my tears clear, I see who it is: Nate.

"Let's go," he says, leaning down to pull me to my feet. He tightens his grip on my arm.

"Nate, you're hurting me, let go." I try to pull away, but he digs his fingers deeper into my muscles. His hands are covered in blood. "What did you do?" I yell.

He drags me from the closet and begins pulling me down the hallway toward the President's quarters.

I turn frantically back to the main area to try to catch someone's attention. Alexander is the only person in view who I recognize, and as he pushes the soldier he's fighting, he turns. We make eye contact, just for a second, and I see his eyebrows furrow over his goggles.

"Help!" I scream, but he doesn't move.

"Quiet," Nate orders me. I hear him type in some code and open a door, but I keep my eyes on Alexander. He must see the panic in my face, but before I can say anything else, Nate shoves me into the President's quarters.