Today breakfast is served on the Immortal. The first wave of refugees, myself and my family included, begin our two mile trek to the tank's decoy spot, where it's parked just in case we are attacked. It's smart to keep the Immortal away from the camp, but nowadays everything is just in case. We live our lives in just in case.

I walk the path to the Immortal alone. My mom left earlier for work with Celia, something about the armor, and I have no idea where Daniel is. My dad and Eleanor walk a few yards behind me, probably whispering about my hair. The good news is that it isn't reddish orange anymore. The bad news is that it's a light purple, dusty rose color, like echinacea or Joe Pye weed. It looks ridiculous, but at least it doesn't remind me of Nate or blood.

I feel sick upon approaching the Immortal, like I do every time I return to the tank. This is where Joe, Phoebe, Winston, and the ghosts of the people we lost are. It's like Nina's song. These ghosts I've seen, we're ghosts I'm told, it's all a dream. Only here, I'm awake, and everyone's watching as I walk through the haunted house.

I file into the entrance along with the other Deathless and continue up the winding staircase to the patio.

There's Nate stretching on the ground, telling me to limber up if I want a chance to beat him this time.

There's Dr. Patel standing in the laboratory hall behind me, his clipboard in hand, nodding at me with a small grin.

We walk into the hall of dormitories, and there's Alexander standing in the doorway of the Captain's dining room, his gold-rimmed goggles blocking his eyes from view.

There's General Sato standing at the double doors into the cafeteria, and he smiles. "Welcome home, Deathless," I can almost hear him say.

I try to keep my cool and take deep breaths, but as I walk into the all-white cafeteria, stuffed full of Deathless, my throat tightens. All I can think of is being trapped inside the computer. The floor tiles even look like the grid I ran through as Prowler Gunther chased me. I exhale steadily through my mouth as if my breath could push away the world.

My dad smiles and grabs my hand. "They're all looking to you," he whispers.

"What?" My breaths quicken until I feel like I might pass out.

"Look," my dad says, "they admire you. They look to you for guidance, my little candidate."

"You too?" I ask between breaths. I try to make eye contact with Eleanor to save me from this conversation, but she's busy talking to another Carrier behind us. In this sea of Deathless, I feel alone. "What about Mom?" I ask, searching for respite.

My dad looks around, probably for Mom, and places his hand on my back, guiding me further into the cafeteria before he answers. It's so crowded that we're already in the line for food though we've barely walked in.

He leans down to speak only to me. "I like Declan as President. He's fair and kind. He's a hell of a guy, really. But I think you'd do the job better, Tiger Lily. Your mom can still be VP."

He releases my hand and rests his palm on my shoulder. He seems closer now, and actually, so do the walls. I swallow hard.

"You're a leader. You were when you saved me from the bunker, you were when you told Jane to get everyone out, and you are now."

I try to smile, but I lose my breath. It hisses out of me more loudly than I mean it to.

"Are you okay, Tiger Lil—"

"—Yeah, I'm fine," I lie.

I look away from my dad so he can't see how heavily I've started breathing, but then all I see are eyes. The cafeteria is full of them. They follow my steps, my breath, my scars, my family. It feels like my lungs are imploding, and I begin stumbling back through the crowd.

"Where are you going?" my dad asks, as now Eleanor's eyes follow me in concern too.

"I'll be right back," I mutter, pushing my way back into the hallway. The second I'm free of the crowd, I race to the Captain's Dining room, throw open the thick wooden door, whose lion-faced knocker now reminds me of Ava, and fall to the ground, clutching my head. Between Phoebe and Dad and the ghosts, there are too many people sneaking into my head for me to stand.

I push my palms to my head to squeeze them all away, but before I can, slender fingers tear my grip free. I open my eyes to find Declan standing over me. "Isla," he says, "what's wrong?"

I leap into his arms, ignoring his suit and slicked back hair. He looks like he went shopping in Gunther's closet. I can't think about that right now, I remind myself. I focus on Declan's scent instead. It's piney and sweet, with just a hint of moth balls.

"What's going on?" he asks gently. "Why are you freaking out? Why is your hair pink?"

Checking the room for other Deathless, I'm suddenly aware of how much red surrounds me: the brick walls, the details in the tapestries, the burgundy upholstered chairs. All the details President McCleary once chose, and all the details I'll forever associate with blood, betrayal, and death.

"Red. They're all looking at me," I pant. I should be breathing normally, but I'm not. Why can't I breathe normally?

"Okay...?" Declan says, examining my face. He holds his hand to my forehead to check my temperature. When he feels I'm not sick, he smirks. "Anything less cryptic you want to tell me?"

"Everyone's going to hate me," I cry.

His smiles falls. "Why would everyone hate you?"

He places his hand on my shoulder, and it finally pulls the words out of me. "I almost helped Gunther killed people. Ten pilots. I almost told them to go meet him, but I didn't." The words are choppy with my breath. "I almost helped Gunther, Declan. I was almost a monster like him."

He brushes my arms in an attempt to calm me down, and I try not to wince when he accidentally nudges the lacerations still healing on my arm. "But you didn't help him, right? So... it's okay. No one is going to hate you for that."

"But they want me to lead, and they shouldn't have a weak leader," I cry.

"Wait, what?" Declan asks.

I spring my hand to my mouth. "I'm sorry," I say. "I don't want to. I don't want to take your job. I can't."

He loosens his tie with a sigh. "Does Beatrice know?"

I shrug. "No."

He must read the lie in my face, because he takes off his suit jacket and throws it at the dining room table. He groans in exasperation, shaking his hair loose from its gel hold. "Who wants you to lead?"

"A group from the estate," I mumble. This splinter through the Deathless makes me wonder which group I fall in. Am I still an original Deathless? Or am I part of the group from the estate? Where was I most myself? When I was a scientist or when I was a leader? The questions drown my thoughts.

"Isla," Declan calls, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Huh?"

"I said I don't want us to compete for a job."

"Oh, me either," I say.

He pushes his glasses up the rim of his nose in thought. "Then we tell them that. C'mon." He takes my hand and drags me out of the room, down the hall, and into the chatter-filled cafeteria stuffed with Deathless.

Declan's presence steadies me. He was never in the program, so I know this is real. These white tiles are just that: tiles. Not pixels, not grids. Just flooring. And these people aren't ghosts or empty vessels Gunther can inhabit. They're real.

I feel my body relax with a deep breath.

As we stand at the top of the stairs where Winston used to make his announcements, Declan clears his throat. "Attention," he yells. Only a few people stop what they're doing. "Attention!" he shouts again, and finally, there's silence.

"Good morning. It's come to my attention that some of you don't want me to lead anymore."

I find Dad in the crowd and see an intrigued expression bloom across his face.

Declan continues, "Today my close friend Isla Blume and I stand united before you. We are aware of the discontent among some of you, and we are here to tell you that you are heard."

He sounds so professional, like he's a new, stronger Declan. I wish I were stronger after everything that's happened, too.

"Those of you from the estate and you survivors from the bunker don't know me. You know Isla. She's amazing. She's smart, she's kind, and she's a real hero to all of us." He looks at me and smiles. "But she needs a break. She has seen things no person should ever see, and she has done things to protect all of you that you couldn't even imagine. She does not want to be a leader in addition to her responsibilities as the biology sector head."

I nod in agreement, finally feeling calm enough to breathe. I search for Daniel in the crowd, but he's nowhere to be seen. At least Eleanor is easy to find beside Dad, and she beams with pride. Dad wears more of a confused grimace.

"And as her friend," Declan continues, "I don't want to do that to her. Instead, I'm going to take this opportunity to tell you about myself, so you can learn to trust me enough to lead you. I'm not another President McCleary or George Cooper or Gunther Quail.

"My name is Declan Kunkle. I grew up in what used to be Connecticut. I went to Harvard for Biology, and earned my Doctorate in Botany. While I was there, I met and worked with Gunther Quail. His brother Hugh...." He pauses. "Hugh and I were in love. Gunther was family to me as well as a mentor."

I look at him with wide eyes. This is the first time he's openly told the Deathless about his relationship with Hugh. He finally feels confident enough to be himself. I smile.

Declan continues, "But Gunther did things Hugh and I didn't approve of. Some of you know the monkey from the Biology sector, Victor. The same implants Gunther installed in many of your brains is the implant that keep Victor from his freedom. It ruined Victor, and made it so he would have to remain in captivity forever, without contact with other monkeys. I wanted no part of that, so I made the choice to quit. I was handing in my resignation letter when the bombs went off, and I was forced into the cryo chambers, as many of you were. When we were unfrozen, Gunther never told me that Hugh had been preserved too. I lived for years believing he was gone, but Gunther kept him."

Declan pushes his glasses up and bites his lower lip. "Hugh was a good man. He died at the estate, like many other good men and women we lost.

"I tell you all of this, because I need you to know that I am not Gunther or the other men who have led you astray. I never will be. If it comes down to it, I will protect you with my life. Those of you who were at the refugee camp with me know this to be true. I was the last one there, checking every domicile to make sure everyone was evacuated. I have nothing else to live for but all of you. You can trust me to keep you safe."

He takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand, looking to me as if that's my cue to speak. I stutter as I begin.

"Declan is a brother to me. If you trust me, you can trust him."

The silence is so deafening, that it bullies me into talking more. "Besides, I'm only seventeen, guys. Do you really want a teenager running things? I'm not ready to be a President. Give Declan a chance."

I let my gaze fall over their faces. Some smile, like Eleanor. Some examine us in confusion. Some nod, like Dad, though it's tough to say why. Did we convince them to give up the election or are they nodding because they want a teenager running things? It's hard to tell how our honesty is being perceived, so I decide we should find out. "Declan and I will be around as you begin your day. Ask us any questions you want."

Declan takes my lead. "This will not be a society built on fear," he says, "but on honesty and openness. Thank you for your attention."

We inch through the Deathless crowd and immediately dive into questions and conversations. I don't know what everyone says to Declan, but most just thank me for what he, my mom, and I have done for them. I'd feel claustrophobic again if it weren't for the tingles creeping from the base of my skull all the way down my spine. They ripple through my muscles and skin, and make my stitches feel light with appreciation.

"Isla," someone behind me says, and I turn around. It's Tanya, the girl who beat me up in the bathroom. The girl who swore I was a terrorist. Great. The tingles stop.

"Oh, hey, Tanya." Somehow I forgot she'd be here.

"Thank you for warning us. For telling us to get out," she says.

Relief passes through me. "Oh, it was no problem," I shrug.

"You were implanted, right?"

"Yeah," I say, lifting my sleeve to reveal the dull control pad on my forearm.

"But you did that as a distraction, right? That's what I heard."

"Well, no. Gunther's brother Hugh and I distracted them while Jane Rosen led everyone out. Jane is the real hero in all of this. I was implanted, because they caught me after I caused a scene."

"Oh. Well... still... thanks. I wouldn't have done that. A lot of us wouldn't have done what you did."

I'm not sure how to respond to that, but she's looking at me as if she's waiting for me to say something profound or meaningful. Instead, I nod. I nod until it starts to feel weird, and then I ask, "So, when are you due?"

"Nine months. I was just inseminated, like, the day before we escaped, so it's still early. It might not have even worked. People said you saw the list of DNA combinations?"

"Yeah, I did." Her eyes brighten. "Eleanor Crowley will set up some sort of system for you ladies to find out the genetic make-up of your babies soon. She'll be in charge of that."

"Thanks," she says. "That means a lot to me."

"Sure. Eleanor will keep all the Carriers posted," I say, walking away. As much as it feels nice to be appreciated now, I can't be around Tanya. She reminds me too much of Cooper and his poison. I smile, wave to her awkwardly, and continue through the crowd.

After nearly twenty minutes circulating through the room, I need space to breathe, so I exit into the hall. Mom sits against the wall beside the cafeteria entrance, and I slide down beside her. She wraps her arm around me, and I rest my head on her shoulder.

"I want you to know," she whispers, "that I told the 'Bloom with Blumers' that I didn't think my seventeen year old daughter was capable of leading them, and I stand by what I said, no matter what your dad thinks. That doesn't mean I don't think you're able, though. I just want you to have time to heal."

"I know, Mom."

"They've suggested an election, with at least you and Declan on the ballot. Don't worry, I'll talk them out of it. I'm handling the situation."

I hug my arm around her chest. "Thanks, Mom."

"Of course," she says, kissing the top of my head. "We're together now."

We sit for a long period in silence until she says in a much more solemn tone, "We should have stayed at the house. We shouldn't have come back to the Immortal. Your dad is back, Eleanor's here, Daniel is safe. We should have stayed. And Drew's son, Ian... he was in our care. Now we might we lose everything... again." Her voice cracks a bit.

"Mom?"

"Sorry, I don't mean to sound so defeatist, it's just... Well, this morning Celia and I were working on the new armor, and all I could think about was war. I can't survive losing you all again. Not this time. Not when I know that if you're gone... you're really gone." She begins to cry.

"Mom...." I say, and push myself up to look her in the face. "Mom, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, honey, but... I think you're probably the only person who would understand what I'm saying."

I do. I understand completely. "You haven't said anything to Dad?"

She shakes her head. "He's the type of person who will do whatever it takes to make you feel better. He would try to encourage me out of these feelings, and I just want to feel scared right now." She smiles. "I imagine you know what I mean by that too."

I rest my head back on her shoulder. "Yep."

"He's so proud of you. You know that, right?"

I nod.

"When I was young I promised myself that if I ever became a mother, I would never force my children to do the things my parents forced me to do." She pauses. "If you don't want to do something, something that could change you for the worse, then you shouldn't have to. I didn't make the right choice when I was young, and it took me a long time to feel whole again afterward. Your dad helped me out a lot, actually." She smirks. "I guess I should talk to him after all, huh?"

I smile. "Probably."

"He can be pushy, I know. But he pushes people into what he thinks is best for them. If you're not ready for it, I can see how he would come across like an overbearing jerk." I laugh, and she smiles. "I get it. But it worked for me, and it worked for Ben and Eleanor. He thinks it works for everyone. Forgive him."

"I have."

"Good. You have no idea how much time I wasted being mad at my parents, especially my mom. What I wouldn't give to have that time back now that they're gone. I would use every second to be with them."

She's right. Sometimes it's frustrating being around Dad, but I finally realize why: He and I are too similar. I push people too. Isn't that what I did with Declan and Celia and Jane to help get them to where they are now? I am my father's daughter, that's for sure.

"You're right," I say.

"I know," she replies, smiling.

I squeeze her tighter, determined not to let go until the next round of Deathless diners come. War or not, right now we have each other, and I'm not going to waste any more time worrying. I'm going to use every second with those I love.

Just in case.