Cooper asked that we all gather in the classroom. The grandfather clock struck nine as we entered through the ballroom, the chandelier above us providing most of the light. The desks where the girls usually sit have been removed so that now, there is only one long table: the big brother of the Captain's quarter table from the Immortal. Burgundy leather chairs, 24 of them, line the table. Old, snake-eyed strangers from around the globe, all men, congregate in the room once we are in position.

Daniel, O'Neil, cyborg Ian, Mitchell, and an empty chair meant for Gunther all sit at Cooper's side, while he stands at the head of the table. The Leader's girls—me, Nina, Celia, and Phoebe—and a group of Caregivers—the healthiest and strongest, which now includes Jane thanks to the pills Joe was able to make before his implant—are standing against the walls of the room. A show of support for our men and Leaders.

The Council sits down, and a stranger with an accent close to O'Neil's begins, "Where's your scientist?"

"Dr. Quail," Cooper groans, "has fallen on some difficult times. His brother is in a temporary coma, and—

"Irrelevant," another stranger says. "This is exactly the sort of incompetence we are here to ensure does not continue. Or have you forgotten, George, we are here to see to it that your vision is carried out? What would Roberts say if he knew you couldn't control your scientists?"

I feel Cooper's pincer around my neck watching his jaw clench, and I have to take a few breaths to calm my heart rate.

"For the final time, Council, I assure you we have everything under control. Dr. Quail's presence at this meeting is not necessary. His participation in our goal can be demonstrated without him. Captain, stand," Cooper orders.

Ian stands at the table, staring blankly ahead at the space between me and Nina.

"Lift your sleeve."

Ian's control pad glows blue-green in the chandelier light.

"He is but one example of what Dr. Quail's implants are capable of. Currently, all of our soldiers are implanted, and some of our scientists as well. By the end of the week, we will complete implants on our male workers, and by the end of the following week, all of our female workers and companions will have the implants, as well. They will be completely under our control, so that we can carry out the plans for repopulation and reconstruction without any control issues. I have not lost sight of the plan." Silence. A few strangers nod. "Sit, Captain," he finishes, and Ian obeys.

"And the Deathless rebels?" the first stranger asks. "What have you done about them? The bunker was never supposed to be destroyed until we had all of our investments out. Do you have any idea what those rebels cost us? The research alone cost millions. Half of the ark was destroyed. Not to mention all the resources that they burned in that explosion. The metals, the computers, the prototypes. Lost. How have they paid for their attack?"

What did Gunther tell them? That we blew up the bunker? That our attack was unplanned? How deep are his lies rooted?

"Allow me to show you," Cooper says, and he moves his finger over a remote beside him. The TV comes to life, and within seconds, an image clarifies: An aerial view of the camp. They have planes.

The image begins to play, and my whole world slows. The Beast rolls up to the dam, no patrol to stop it. My breath sputters from my lungs. The main gun spouts canon balls and black smoke, and holes of the outer wall crumble in clouds of dust. My heart bounces between ribs. Aren't there enough Deathless left to defend themselves? Where is my mom? Where is Declan?

The tank turns to point its gun across the lake, toward the clearing where the Deathless domiciles are. The main gun spouts more destruction, this time over our homes, our people, most of whom are probably still sleeping. A burning anger returns to my chest, and flashbacks from the practice Immersions flood through me. I re-watch my mom get shot, stabbed, and now, in real time, I watch her and Declan's domiciles burn in heaps of rubble. Black smoke covers the camp.

My body is paralyzed, but my mind is swinging between my fear of Cooper, my fear of losing my family, and my fear for my life. I clamp my teeth over my lips so hard I taste blood. I feel all the girls' eyes on me, but I can't move. Daniel looks over his shoulder to me, but as much as I love him, I can't look at him right now. I'm afraid he'll see my spirit crawling out of me, bleeding down chin. I stare at the TV, watching the black smoke rise as I choke on air. I can smell the death through the screen.

After a few more minutes, the destruction is complete. Armed soldiers go in and out of the dam. Water leaks through concrete until gaps burst through in parts, and the clearing is red and black with flames. Even Eleanor's travel pod is consumed in fire.

"Was that the last of the Deathless?" a stranger asks, gesturing casually to the screen.

"Nearly." Cooper gestures behind him, and Winston is carried in. "This is their remaining leader. Unless anyone else would like to come forward as a Deathless sympathizer."

I know his comment is to me, but I'm not as strong as I was my first night out of the cell. Maybe I'm not a hero. Maybe I'm just some outspoken kid finally realizing her place. I look at Winston, and his eyes are screaming for me to be silent. He doesn't want me to be a martyr either. He, too, doesn't want any more death. I stay quiet, paralyzed against the wall.

"It seems as though this is the last of them, Mr. Cooper," O'Neil says.

Cooper turns his head to me, but I can't look at him. I assume he's smiling. He's won: He maintains his stature with the Council and I'm broken.

"Captain," Cooper orders, "Take this man down to the Reaper's Room and dispose of him."

Ian stands and gestures for the soldiers carrying them to follow him out of the room, but just before they reach the exit, the doors swing open. Gunther stands before them. "What'd'I miss?"

The strangers grumble.

"Is this the famed Dr. Quail?" the accented stranger asks.

"Aye, sir," Gunther mocks him, and it pulls me from my trance. What is he doing? He starts laughing, slapping his knees. "Oh, c'mon, lighten up." He turns his attention to the screen, now nearly consumed in black smoke. "Ah, I see you've been watching the Deathless camp's destruction. So you've seen the fruits of my labor, yes? The implants. Impressive, right?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows. No one answers. "Tough crowd. Listen, I have another invention I'd like you to see. Something that will speed our progress along even more, if you can believe it."

His face is wild in every sense of the word: Overgrown with hair, darkened with lack of sleep, and wide in amusement. Ian tries to push past him.

"Ah, ah, ah," Gunther taunts, revealing the remote controller from his pocket. He presses a button and Ian freezes. "Good boy. I'd like Dr. Fowler here to see this before he expires. Now, if you will all follow me into the ballroom," he smiles, and turns out the door. No one moves, so he chuckles, "All the losses we've taken can be repaid by my machine. You need to see this."

He turns again, and this time, the strangers stand and follow him. Then the Leaders. A couple of Caregivers strap Cooper into the contraption that allows him to slide into the ballroom, and the girls follow him out.

As soon as the men have cleared the room, I explode with the tears I've been holding back. My brain tells my legs to move but they are rebelling, still paralyzed in fear and disbelief, as my eyes remain fixed on the screen. I'm waiting for the black smoke to clear, so that I can see someone, anyone, emerging from the flames, but it never does. Maybe what we saw on screen was just a simulation created by Mitchell? I need any shred of hope to hang on to before I lose grip of myself. Without my mom... I can't think of it. She's unstoppable. She would have seen them coming and left. She would have....

Nina takes my hand and stops my head from spinning. She moves my face for me so that I'm staring straight at her. Her hair hangs long and straight, like willow tree branches, and the color of sequoia bark. Her deep eyes squint in concern, and for or a moment, she looks just like my mom. My paralysis lifts, and I fall into Nina's arms, which thankfully catch me before I hit the ground.

"Whoa, Isla. Isla, you have to get up, sister," she whispers. "They're going to notice we aren't there."

"I can't," I weep. She puts her finger to her lips to silence me, but I can't stop crying. "I lost them. They're gone."

"Eleanor probably warned them before—"

"No," I cut her off. "The pod was still there."

"Just because we saw that on the screen, doesn't mean—"

"It's all my fault," I cry.

She lifts my chin up. A tear rolls down her cheek, but other than that, she's collected. I guess when you're a Nomad, you see your fair share of death.

"It is not your fault. I promise you. Now, listen: we'll mourn later. We have to keep moving now. I'm sorry, but we have to. C'mon, I'll help you," she says, purely business. She lifts me under her shoulder, and carries me out. With each step, my feet feel more ground beneath them, until we reach the balcony with the rest of the girls, and I stand on my own to look out on what Gunther has planned.

He's milling around the ballroom, positioning the Council members in a line facing his Rube Goldberg machine with Cooper suspended in the center. He asked that Daniel, Mitchell, O'Neil, Ian, and all of us girls stay on the balcony. Mitchell will start the machine from up here. Daniel finds me in the crowd, and wraps his arms around me. He squeezes me, but I don't say a word. I'm not strong enough to say anything yet. It just helps to know he's there.

"I'm scared," he whispers to me.

Nina hears him, and wraps her long arm around us both, like a slender cocoon. "Fear is not helpful right now," she tells him.

"And now for the main event!" Gunther shouts.

"How is this piece of junk supposed to make us our money back?" the stranger with the accent asks.

Gunther holds his finger to his mouth. "Only time will tell, Ole Chap." He points up to Mitchell on the balcony: "Maestro! If you please!"

Mitchell pushes a lever, releasing a ball that careens down a track, hitting pegs along the way. The pegs release and swing hammers down against glass bulbs, which shatter and rain over the ballroom.

"Gunther!" Cooper yells.

Gunther hushes him, and the machine continues. From the corner of my eye, I see Mitchell stumbling. Is he drunk?

The ball reaches the track's end, and knocks off the plug from gallon of water. The water spills out and fills a bucket. As the bucket lowers, it pulls a cover down from a canister mounted on the wall. It's hard to tell through the pouring water, but it looks like white smoke is escaping from the canister. The bucket tips, and begins filling a second bucket, which also pulls the lid off a mounted canister. Then again, and again a fourth time. Some of the Council members begin stumbling and coughing. I check back to see Mitchell, who is now sitting on the marbled floor, like some drunkard, like some... Like someone who is knocked out.

The machine continues, and Gunther calls out over the pings and whirls of gears, "Stay where you are!" The stumbling strangers freeze, and my suspicions are confirmed. Gunther is knocking out everyone in the room.

I turn back to Daniel and Nina: "Cover your nose and mouth, it's the knock out gas." They do so without question or urgency. Are they already knocked out? I try again: "Pat your head," I say, and they do. "Damn it," I mutter. I push through the crowd to Celia. "Celia, pat your head." She does. No! The gas has already spread to the balcony.

Something in Gunther's machine booms, so I rush to the banister to see: A blade has shot from a freestanding launcher, severing Cooper's suspension chords. His metal body clangs against the floor.

"Gunther!" Cooper roars.

"What is this, Gunther?" I yell.

"Ah, Isla," he calls up to me as his machine continues to move down a spiral, "I've been counting on your consciousness."

It comes back to me: my first meeting with Gunther. He said, "I will come to you with a job: I suggest you take it."

"What do you want from me?" I yell.

"Just wait 'til the finale, Ms. Blume," he calls back.

"I'll have you murdered for this. Captain! Captain, kill him!" Cooper bellows.

Gunther laughs, as the machine winds down. "Oh, George. We should have never saved you. You're not even human anymore. You're just scrap metal attached to an organic computer," he says, kicking the only part of him that's human anymore: his face.

He wails in pain. "Who do you think you are?" Cooper hisses through the blood.

"I'm the guy who runs the show now," Gunther smiles.

Gears turn and clank in syncopation. Clank, clank... It pauses... clank. At the last sound, the door to the Reaper's Room hallway bursts open with implanted soldiers in gas masks. They line up behind the Council members, and draw their weapons.

I duck behind the banister and cover my ears as they all pull their triggers, and 18 council members fall to the floor in pools of red.

Cooper's panting in shock as Gunther approaches him.

"What are you going to do, Gunther?" he stutters.

"What you and the President were going to do with my brother: I'm going to leave you to die." He pulls a gun from beneath his suit jacket, and shoots Cooper twice: Once in each lung, for Hugh.

He writhes on the floor, soaking his suit in more and more blood. It seeps into the wrinkles in his face, and disables his exoskeleton. Now he's just a dying old man.

Gunther presses a button, and the soldiers drag the Council member bodies back into the Reaper Room hall. Once they're gone, Gunther shouts, "Clean up this mess. Do not touch or help George Cooper, no matter how much he begs or screams."

Everyone, all my friends and Daniel included, file blindly down the staircase, and, without proper cleaning supplies, begin mopping up the puddles of blood with their clothes until they are covered in red too.

I press my face between banister bars and shake at the sight of Daniel mopping up blood with his sleeves; Nina sweeping it around with her shawl; Jane sopping it up with the ends of her shirt; Winston dripping with it from his chains; and Celia, like Sisyphus, wiping the constantly flowing blood from around Cooper's body with her bare hands.

Gunther laughs at me, and says, "Come along, Ms. Blume, let's get you cleaned up. I have work for you."

I'm not knocked out, but my mind is too full of death and blood and gore to think. And, finally, I am as afraid of Gunther as everyone told me to be. He is a mad man.

So I follow him, past the blood, past my friends, past my love, and out of the ballroom. As we cross the grandfather clock, Cooper's groans silence, and all becomes quiet except for the clapping of liquid against marble.

***

Those of you who read this chapter in the original book here on Wattpad know that I was really nervous about this chapter. I was so afraid it would be too bloody for the audience. What do you think? Just enough gore?

I love Gunther's machine in this chapter. I think it is so sick and so perfect and so Gunther all at once. What do you think?