This morning there was a riot in the cafeteria. The Deathless may be a family, but we're dysfunctional. A group of the new Deathless from the estate marked the Originals' uniforms with orange asterisks, which sparked a fight and brought the entire cafeteria into the chaos.

The soldiers gathered up the instigators, and now Mom, Declan, and I face them in the emptied cafeteria.

"Legislator Blume, we were only trying to stand up for you, for what happened to you," Jane says. She is among the perpetrators of the riot, as is Meg. "Isla, you know what we were trying to do. Right?"

All eyes zip toward me. "I know what you were trying to do Jane, and I appreciate it."

I can tell that Mom and Declan tense at this. I don't agree with them letting the Originals back on the Immortal, but the anger has passed. I have to stand with them now.

"But marking the Originals and starting a fight over it is unacceptable." One of the first things Dr. Patel ever said to me pops into my head. "The Deathless doesn't harm survivors."

Jane appears hurt, like I've betrayed her. Meg butts in, "I need to trust the people I fight beside."

"And you will. You didn't trust me at first either, Meg."

My mom hits her metal arm against the table where we sit. "It doesn't matter. The war isn't about me or Isla, it isn't about you, it isn't about the Originals. It's about all of us if we aren't together, we will fail. The fighting amongst ourselves stops now. You will learn to trust each other or you will be the reason we lose."

Her words echo over the empty room before Declan pushes his glasses up the slant of his nose, and says, "This is a warning for all present. If you continue to fight, we will be forced to take drastic measures. Legislator Blume is right, we have to be together on this." He passes his eyes over the crowd of Deathless, some with orange asterisks on their uniforms, and some without. "Continue to your normal posts. We don't want to hear about any more trouble from any of you."

The rioters hang their heads and skulk out of the room. As she passes, Jane says me, "The mark. It's a tiger lily. For you. We're your army, Isla."

"Thank you," I whisper in reply.

Once they've cleared the cafeteria, my mom whispers to Declan and me, "We need to talk. Let's go to the Captain's dining room." She marches off, and Declan and I hurry behind to keep up. She locks the huge wooden door behind her, and we sit on the sofas in the corner of the room, surrounded by Declan's painted words to calm me.

Mom holds her new arm to her chest and catches her breath. "Right here, right now, we are going to get everything out," she says, "whatever is bothering us, whatever we're going through. No judgements, no anger, just honesty. That's how we work and we're not leaving this room until we are all honest with each other."

We sit there in the locked room, without anyone to look to us and without anyone in our heads, and allow ourselves to speak honestly with one another.

Declan finally allows himself to cry openly for Hugh. He talks about his fears for leadership, his still dominant assumption that he isn't good enough to lead, and about how this assumption keeps him from truly embracing his position.

Mom opens up about what she said about her arm when she was loopy from her medicine. She talks about how the world's end has tried to take nearly everything away from her, and now, she's even losing control over her body. She's angry and upset, and she's out for blood.

And then I admit to everything that's going on in my brain.

For the first time since before we went to the bunker, when we were just a Botanist, his trainee, and a mechanical trainee, we are just three people sitting together and sharing. Friends share stories, and we as a group, return to our core: friends and family members.

Once it's all out, we make a plan. We decide on a voting system for decision making between the three of us, so there is no more animosity and no more misunderstandings. And more importantly, we decide to put people first. Leadership is meaningless without people to help.

As our conversation wraps up, I get a call over my walkie. "Judge Blume, please report to the biology sector, over."

"We should get back to work," Mom says, clearing the moisture from her cheek.

"I don't know, the Immortal is still running. I think we're good," Declan jokes. Mom nudges his shoulder with her new metal fist, and he holds it in pain. "Yikes, I have to watch what I say around you now."

"You better," she says.

I hug them both before heading toward the door. "Isla," Declan stops me, "mind if I join you? I miss the lab."

"Sure," I say, smiling, and Declan and I hurry to the lab.

When we open the door, Dr. Valencia and Victor are waiting for us at the bridge. Victor leaps from her shoulder and into Declan's arms. He scurries around Declan's shoulders, and perches on top of his hair, tousling it until it is once again a mess of brown on his head.

"Wow, what's gotten into my buddy here?" Declan asks, laughing.

"He missed you," I say.

"It's more like what's gotten out of him," Dr. Valencia says.

I stare at her in anticipation. "Is it... is the implant out of him?"

She smiles and nods excitedly. "So far no issues with the procedure or with his functioning. We will continue to watch him before we test it on Dr. Wilkes."

"Victor, buddy," Declan says, pulling Victor from his head and cradling him in his arms. "You're you again. Hugh would have been so happy to see this." He turns to Dr. Valencia. "Have you done any scans of his brain yet?" She nods. "Do you think he will be able to be reintroduced into the wild?"

"I don't think so," she says. "He hasn't learned the necessary skills to survive, but now we can place him with another Capuchin for breeding."

"Alright, Victor. We're going to get you a lady friend now. Way to go buddy." Declan's eyes redden with sadness. "Hugh would have been so happy. This is what he wanted."

***

I have no clue what Gunther has planned, but I remember the conference that Belinda Lawrence mentioned to Ian when she first spoke with him. All the new leaders of the Roberts and Cooper organizations coming together to discuss moving forward. That has to be today, and Gunther must have something big planned that he wants me to see.

I'm terrified for Ian. My nerves have turned my blood to sludge, and the goop pumps through me with such strain that simply existing is physically uncomfortable. Every breath feels like I'm gulping for air. Every movement feels like I'm flailing in panic. It's like I'm battling my blood just to survive, fighting against my body and my mind to stay sane.

Winston sits in the chair beside the program, his body strapped with all the wires and visors that he needs to become part of the computer and sneak into Ian's mind. A group of us stand against the wall, watching the monitors just as Declan did when we went into the program for virtual training. From here we will see everything Ian sees, including what Gunther has planned for us to see.

"Are you ready Winston?" Julian asks as he begins the program. The machine hums to life and the screens light with the image of the virtual bunker yard, still intact.

"Yes," Winston replies. I hold Mom's remaining hand with my left and clutch Declan's hand in my right. Julian presses a button on the keyboard and Winston's visor darkens over his eyes. His avatar appears on the screen.

"Right now you are in the bunker yard, but I am going to switch the feed now so everything will vanish. After a few seconds you should be able to see through Ian Becker's perspective."

"Okay," Winston says.

Julian types in a code, and the screen goes black. In a few seconds, an image returns.

Ian is outside a bunker entrance, nearing it mechanically as he marches. The terrain is different than what I imagined England looking like. It's a bright desert, rocky and abandoned, and fiery beneath the sun. The bunker door is open, and someone leads the group of marching drone-infested people toward it. The person is clothed in a long tan cloak like everyone else, nearly the same color as the ground. The mindless followers wear the same cloaks, their hoods up to cover up the parasitic drones digging into their brains. But the person leading them is different. The bulge beneath their hood is smaller. This is someone who hasn't been violated by a drone yet, and I know then that it must be Gunther. I can feel his presence, even from across the room and across the continents.

A pair of dark skinned soldiers greet the him at the bunker entrance, and one of them confirms my suspicion as he speaks his name. "Gunther Quail, yes?"

Gunther doesn't respond, but instead reaches into his cloak, which flaps open a bit from the air conditioning that blasts loudly from the inside of the bunker, and pulls out a long needle, like the ones at the ends of the drone arms.

"Sir?" the other soldier asks, reaching for his gun.

In an instant, Gunther lunges the needle into the first soldiers neck, and then one of the mindless soldiers beside him does the same to the other. The sight of it, even over the screens, causes my blood to thicken even more within my veins. I want to throw up, but I hold it in, because there's a feeling more consuming than disgust rising within me: terror. Gunther isn't hiding behind Prowlers or drones or gamma ray detectors or knock out gas anymore. Now he's doing the killing himself, and though he was always a killer, something about this frightens me more than anything else.

Gunther leads the soldiers into the bunker, and Ian follows blankly. Winston is calm in the chair, but he holds his arms as if he's cold. At the bottom of the ramp leading into the first main room of the bunker, which looks just like the ones in DC and England, Gunther throws the door open.

A group of soldiers stands at the center of the room, and they come toward him to greet him. The soldier who must be of the highest ranking extends his hand to him, and says with surprise, "Gunther Quail, you were not announced. I apologize for the lack of-is that blood on your cloak?"

"Phoebe?" Winston asks.

Again, Gunther stabs the man with the needle, and as the other soldiers take up arms, the implanted soldiers of Gunther's army attack, Ian included. He lifts a needle from a sheath at his side, and begins attacking, using the needle as a sword. The soldiers guarding this bunker are unprepared. Roberts and Cooper affiliates aren't supposed to attack each other, not when there is a world to rebuild.

Declan squeezes my hand. "We can go if you want," he whispers as red fills the screen.

Fear and curiosity take over my disgust, so I bury my head in his shoulder and say, "Just tell me when I can look again."

Last grunts and screams echo in the hall, and then all is silent except for the whispers of needles being sheathed. Footsteps march across the room, and then echo louder as they march down the stairs.

"You can look now," Declan tells me.

I lift my head, and see that Ian is following Gunther down the staircase toward the floor where all the cryo chambers were in the U.S. bunker. When Gunther opens the door onto the floor and Ian follows him into the space, I see rows and rows of chairs in front of a podium. A man stands at the podium, another General perhaps, and the seats in front of him are filled with other Roberts and Cooper affiliates of all races, genders, and ages. Their soldiers crowd the room, and extend into the hallways branching out from its center. Here Gunther is outnumbered, but knowing him and knowing that he specifically wanted me to see this, I can only assume Gunther isn't worried.

The man at the podium looks displeased. "Gunther Quail from the United States of America. Welcome. You're late. Take a seat and relax."

I want to scream at him to notice the blood on their cloaks or the fact that the Roberts and Cooper escorts aren't with them, but he doesn't seem to notice anything but his notes on the podium.

He takes a breath to continue speaking about whatever he had been before Gunther barged in, but Gunther interrupts him, "Actually, I'll stand. And I'm right on time."

The man looks up again. "Typical American arrogance," he mumbles. "You cannot come into an established organization and demand they follow your time and your rules, Mr. Quail."

"You're right, you're right," Gunther agrees, nodding his head. He takes a seat in the back of the room and stares smugly at the man before gesturing for him to continue.

"Where is Sergeant Major Lawrence?"

Gunther pulls her from the crowd, and even though her face is completely void of expression, the man nods as if to accept her presence.

The man clears his throat. "The vessel from Janus will be landing shortly. Do we have the proper arrangements for their re-acclimatization to Earth?"

"Our initial plans put our development of new infrastructure much further ahead of where we currently are. We did not have enough time. The old cities have not even been cleaned yet," someone says.

The man marks something on his paper. "Each country will assign their collector droids for clean-up duty. Their shovel claw should be able to handle lifting debris, and their pincers should lift the heavier objects. Scraps can be reused for new cities of our liking. Mr. Quail, are the gamma ray detectors ready for installation across the globe?"

"Dr. Quail," Gunther corrects him.

The man smirks. "Dr. Qual. Are they ready?"

"They are. My soldiers will install them."

"Sergeant Major's soldiers," the man says.

Gunther sucks his teeth. "They are mine now. Sergeant Major abdicated her command of the United Kingdom branch."

The man's eyes widen in surprise. "Belinda, is this true?"

She doesn't answer, she only stares blankly.

"Belinda, answer me." No response. "Are you in danger?" the man asks, his voice raised though he's still speaking into the mic.

Now some of the others in the room reveal their weapons, and point them toward Gunther and his mindless group of soldiers, Ian included. Winston remains calm in the chair, but I'm shaking with fear. I shift my weight between my left and my right sides to drain some of the nervous energy from my bones, but no matter what I do to calm myself down, the fact still remains: Ian is there, mindless and without power, and he is being controlled by a monster who would probably sacrifice him first to get to me.

Gunther closes his eyes and lifts his fingers to his temples, a wry smile forming on his face. Then, his army begins to chant, and my heart jumps when I hear Winston joining in.

"Without danger, there can be no originality," they say in unison. "Without originality, there can be no progress. Without progress, there can be no power. Power comes from danger, and Gunther Quail is dangerous. Bow down to Gunther Quail."

"What the hell is this?" the man shouts into the mic, and his jaw drops as he finally notices the blood on their robes. "Blood. Why is there blood? Gunther, what have you done?"

"Danger is power. Danger is Quail," the army and Winston chant. "Bow down to Gunther Quail. Bow down to Gunther Quail."

Gunther's army begins marching into the room and the people with guns don't know what to do. They look between the man at the podium and Gunther, but before the man can give them any orders, one of the panicked people fires at Gunther's army.

The soldier beside Ian is shot through the stomach, but he continues to march. The group chants again. "Bow down to Gunther Quail."

As the blood drains from the soldier, he eventually collapses, but the group marches over him. They repeat, "Bow down to Gunther Quail."

"You see," Gunther begins, "you cannot stop them, because they are no longer themselves. Reveal," he orders, and the army disrobes, exposing the drones that have implanted themselves on their heads.

Gasps, yells, and cries of panic fill the room. The people gathered for the conference begin to scatter.

"Where are you going in such a rush?" Gunther asks, shouting over the crowd. "Won't you stay and get to know your new leader?"

He smiles as people continue to run toward exits, finding each blocked by Gunther's soldiers, who fight back with their sword-like needles when necessary. Blood spills, but I'm too scared for Ian to look away.

When the people do not respond to Gunther, something happens. Winston yelps with pain, and then Ian collapses. The monitor still shows his perspective, lying sideways on the floor, and my mom and I step forward in panic.

"What happened?" my mom shouts.

Please don't let Ian be dead, I beg to whoever is listening.

"I... I don't know," Julian stutters.

But then the image on the monitor makes it clear: The mindless soldiers have dropped to the ground to allow new drones to enter, and they now buzz around the room, stabbing their arms into the new crowd.

"Gunther's building his army," Declan says under his breath.

And then, as if Declan speaking his name could summon him, Gunther grabs Ian by the neck and pulls him up from the ground. He catches his breath and smiles wildly as drones pierce through skulls behind him.

"Good morning, Ms. Blume," he says into Ian's eyes. "I hope you are enjoying the show." Some of Gunther's slicked back hair has fallen from its mold, and he adjusts his grip around Ian's neck so he can smooth it back.

"This is what you will look like after we meet in DC, and this is what all of those people from Roberts' crew will look like too. This is the future," he says, gesturing back to the screaming Roberts and Cooper members as they try in vain to escape the drones.

Winston squirms in his seat. He must feel the grip Gunther has on Ian. He starts to groan and the sound explodes into a pained howl: "Phoebe!"

Ian's gaze falls to the needle Gunther has pressed against him, ready to thrust into Ian's ribcage and straight to his heart.

"No!" I shout, then quickly put my hands over my mouth. My entire body is frozen in fear.

"And your future, Ms. Blume," Gunther says, pressing the needle into Ian's uniform just deep enough to create an indentation in the fabric, "won't include your friends."

I don't think, I just do. I step toward Winston and throw off my headband.

"Isla, don't," Mom orders me, but I've already closed my eyes and I'm already connecting with Gunther.

He doesn't expect me here-he thinks I'm in Ian's mind-so his pain and fear are free for me to feel. I need to take this chance to torture Gunther like he's been torturing me. I press my palms to my ears and squeeze my eyes closed even tighter to concentrate.

It makes me uneasy, but I remember Hugh's death. I imagine blood and bone exploding at the heart-stopping scream of a gun. I imagine it even gorier than it was, and I replay it over and over just like he did in my nightmare. Gunther screams in agony. As much as Gunther is a monster, he is human when it comes to Hugh.

"He stepped away," I hear my mom say behind me. "Whatever you're doing, it's working." Her warm hand is on my shoulder as a show of support, but I can't let feelings of relief into my brain now. I need to focus on destroying Gunther from the inside.

I envision Gunther's Rube Goldberg machine. I imagine it traveling through all his failures, and then, instead of the ball dropping into nothingness, I picture something I know Gunther considers much worse. I imagine history book pages filled with the atrocities he's committed. I imagine celebrations upon his death, and banners with his picture crossed out. He isn't nothing. He is worse than nothing, because at least then he could be forgotten. Now he is a new villain, among the likes of Hitler and Stalin, and no matter how insane Gunther may be, being remembered as a monster is not what he wants.

"Isla," Gunther wails, and I open my eyes. He is doubled open, holding his palms to his forehead. "Get out of my head!"

Then I realize: If I can see him on the screen, that means Ian is still standing right in front of him. I can't lose anymore friends. I run to Winston's chair, lift his visor, and lean into him. "Tell Ian to run," I try to say as steadily as I can.

Beads of sweat dot Winston's forehead and he wears a panicked expression, but still, he nods and lowers the visor over his eyes. "Run," he says. "Run!"

I spin to face the screen. Ian bolts out of the room and starts running for the stairwell.

"You bitch," Gunther says through the implant. I feel him getting up and running after Ian. The entire room of Roberts and Cooper officials are now new hosts to the drones, so with a quick thought, Gunther orders them to all stand still and wait for his return.

"I can't hold off Gunther's orders by myself," Winston yells. "I need Phoebe, but she's gone. She was here, in the program, helping me, but now she's gone," he says, his voice shaking as if he might cry.

Ian continues to run, but he's slowing. "I'm catching up to your friend, Isla," Gunther tells me, "And when I catch him, I'm killing him on the spot. No more games, right?"

I want to put my headband back on to block Gunther out, but I have an idea. I have to stay in Gunther's brain, but first, I turn to Winston. "Tell Ian to run back to the plane," I order.

He does, but Ian continues to slow. The drone has too much power over him. I have to figure out a way to disable it. I remember that I can influence Gunther's behavior now that I'm in his brain, so I focus on the gun at his hip. I picture it clearly in my mind, and then I imagine him aiming it at the drone on Ian's head.

"Bad move," Gunther says out loud.

Declan steps forward to interject, "Isla, be careful."

I close my eyes and focus on the bullet hitting and disabling the drone. Aim at the drone, pull the trigger, hit the drone. I repeat the process over and over in my mind until Gunther finally fires. A millisecond of silence passes between the sound of the gun firing and Winston screaming.

Oh my God, please don't tell me I killed Ian. I couldn't have killed him.

I open my eyes to see through Ian's eyes. There isn't any blood in his face and he isn't falling. He's still alive. I breathe a sigh of relief. So why is Winston screaming?

"Winston, what's wrong?" Declan asks. "What's happening?"

"It hurts," Winston calls. "The bullet hit the drone, shutting it off, but it moved the needles in Ian's brain."

Oh no.

I slip from Gunther's brain and try to get into Ian's to make sure he's okay. As long as he can concentrate, I can share instructions on how to fly a plane with him through our connection, and then he can come back to us.

On the screen, I see the plane waiting in the middle of the desert, and Ian runs outside to near it, grasping his head in pain.

"Can we have him take out the drone legs?" Mom asks.

"No," Declan replies. "He could bleed out."

"Ian, get to the plane," I try to tell Ian, but I don't feel his presence. All I feel is Gunther's nudging back into my brain as he chases after Ian.

Why am I not connecting? I wonder. Unless... unless the drone's arms destroyed his implant.

My plan isn't working.

"Stay with Ian, Win. Get him onto the plane, and tell him anything you know about flying," I say.

Winston lifts the visor from his face. "I can't... he won't connect anymore."

"Crap," I curse under my breath. I close my eyes and press my hands to my temples to focus on Gunther. I don't want to open up my brain to him any longer than I need to, but I need to know that Ian is okay.

I dive into the belly of the beast: Gunther's mind. Not just to put thoughts in his brain, but to experience his brain. Bright sunshine reflects off a sea of sand as Gunther tackles Ian to the ground.

The sand scratches at Gunther's knuckles, and the pain feels so real, I have to rub my hands just to be sure they aren't bleeding. Ian pants with exhaustion, and blood still leaks from his head; but with one swift motion, he rolls and elbows Gunther in the lip. I feel it in my jaw, and I can even taste Gunther's iron blood in my mouth. I want to vomit, and the sensation causes Gunther to gag. I do my best to influence Gunther again since I'm in his mind.

I will him to let go of Ian and roll onto his back. Gunther wants to get up and fight, but I focus on touching every inch of his skin to the hot desert sand, no matter how much it burns beneath Gunther's clothes. A slow, searing sensation radiates from Gunther's hands. The sand is actually burning his skin, and I wince with pain. I'm used to burns by now. This is how my skin felt after you blew up the bunker, I think to Gunther.

If my thoughts weren't enough to keep Gunther down, Ian pins him to the earth. He cocks his fist back, and before I can prepare myself, Ian punches Gunther in the face. Gunther's vision goes blurry as his cheekbone transitions from numb to achy to throbbing. Tears fall down my cheeks from the pain, but Gunther just cups his face, both to try to calm the torment and to block to sun. In the glare from the sun's rays, Gunther watches Ian stumble to the plane. He's still bleeding. He looks weak.

The plane comes alive and after a few loud jolts, Ian has it driving down a stretch of paved earth. It pops up and down on the runway a few times before shaking into the air.

Gunther must sense my relief flooding into his mind, because he stops it with harsh words. "He'll never make it," he says aloud, groaning still from pain and exertion. "There's not enough fuel left to get it to America from here. He's lost to you now that-if I'm not mistaken-you have no way to contact him."

I begin to pull myself from Gunther's brain in defeat, leaving him to laugh to himself on the desert floor.

I lift the visor from my face and march across the room to where I threw my headband.

"Where is Ian? Is he okay?" Mom asks.

"He's in a lot of pain driving plane he doesn't know how to use, and I can't reach him. Unless he knows how to get to us, if he can even find us, we might not see him again," I say on my way out the door. I need some time alone right now.

"So Gunther's army is larger now, and we've lost all contact with our only allies?" Declan asks the group. "Great."

Why can't anything go right? I think as I exit the lab.

I'm headed to lock myself in the Captain's dining room for a few hours when Dr. Guzman enters the hall from the infirmary.

"Isla," he calls, his voice bright, "I was just leaving to get you."

I stop. "What now? I can't take any more bad news right now, Dr. Guzman."

He smiles. "Good, because I have great news," he says. Perfect. "We administered the solution to Joe earlier this morning, and we just administered it to Phoebe."

I perk up. "And?"

"Joe is awake, and Phoebe just opened her eyes."