I don't know if General Kazemi, Carmine, Jacob, or Dad are still alive, so, as the only available leader of our troops, I scream out the only order that makes sense from beneath the tree that blocks us from exiting the foxhole: "Fire at will!"

Everything erupts with the sounds of war, but all I can think about is finding my dad. "We have to get out of here," I panic.

Mom strains to push the trunk away, but it's no use, the tree is too heavy.

"Dig," Declan says, and the three of us begin clawing at the sides of the foxhole, crumbing the dirt walls and suspending light brown dust in the air. Every second we spend clawing our way out of the hole is a second Dad could be losing air or blood beneath the Beast... unless he got away. He had to have gotten away.

I watch as the wall falls beneath my clawing fingertips, until finally, I think I've made enough of a space between the wall and the trunk to squeeze through. I reach my hand to the ground outside of the hole, trying to find something to grab hold of to help me up, a root or plant or anything, when something tickles my hand. At first I think it must be a spider walking over my skin, but then the something licks my hand and pokes its muzzle into the foxhole to lick my face. MacArthur.

"Oh, MacArthur, good boy," I say, petting his head. I begin patting the wall in front of me. MacArthur sticks his snout into the space to sniff, licks my hand again, and begins digging. He tosses up dirt behind him more quickly than we could have hoped to on our own, and he manages to create a small trench that we can slide out from. But MacArthur doesn't have the patience for us to climb out. He grips the back of my cloak with his teeth and drags me onto the ground first. Then Declan, and then my mom.

As soon as we are out, Gunther's soldiers begin firing in our direction, and MacArthur growls. I grab him by the scruff and hold him down so he isn't caught in the crossfire, and with my free hand, I slip the poem my dad wrote for me from my back pocket.

"Smell this," I tell MacArthur, placing it in front of his nose. He sniffs the paper, and, catching a scent, lifts his head to push out of my grip. He runs over to the toppled Beast.

"What was that?" Declan asks.

"A poem my dad wrote," I say, army crawling toward the nearest standing tree for cover. "MacArthur got a scent from it."

Mom and Declan follow me, and once we make it to the tree, we take turns sprinting out from behind it and diving under cover of the Beast.

That's when I see Dad just ahead of me.

MacArthur barks at him and pulls at his cloak with his teeth, but Dad shoos him away. He and Jacob are doing their best to lift the Beast, but it's no use. He looks at me and Mom with panicked eyes, but at least they're still full of life. He's alive. I race toward him and throw myself into his arms.

"I thought you died," I cry into his armor-plated chest. "I thought I'd lost you again."

Jacob is still hunched over, attempting to lift the Beast. "They're still under here," he tells us.

"Who is?" Declan asks.

"Carmine and General Kazemi. They were meeting to discuss tactics, and Todd and I left to take a leak. Next thing we know, the tank is on its side and they're underneath," Jacob says, all the while straining to lift.

Without a word, my parents and I reach down to join him while Declan stands watch with a gun in his good hand, but there's no way we can move it. I let go and drop to the ground. "General! Carmine!" I yell beneath the tank, but no one responds. Instead, a slow trail of blood spills out from the shadows. I shiver—from the cold, from disgust, from sadness, from the blood—and stand up. "They're dead," I say.

Jacob says a quick prayer while Dad curses under his breath. Declan is speechless, like he's been kicked in the stomach, and Mom searches the earth for a way out of this situation.

For once, I am focused. Like in the immersion trainings, all this death and anger has settled heavily at my core, grounding me in what needs to be done.

"Jacob, get your troop to split up. I want groups of rubble sweepers on either side of the yard. We're going to go through with the plan Carmine proposed, and I want your people there when Gunther and his army discover they have nowhere to retreat."

Jacob exchanges glances with my parents, but when neither look concerned, he nods and darts off amid gunfire.

"What do we do?" Declan asks. He's useless without his hand, and without full use of his arm, Dad is too.

I press my fingers to the radio at my neck, transmitting my voice into the earbuds of every one of my allies. "This is Isla Blume. General Kazemi has died in the attack against the Beast, as has the representative of the Nomads, Carmine. Now you will listen to my orders and the orders of Legislator Beatrice Blume and Executive Declan Kunkle. I need all the injured and the ex-Caregivers to retreat into town with Executive Kunkle. He will supervise, and Todd Blume will help the injured move out. They are your medics as are the soldiers from my troop."

Declan swallows hard. "What about Gunther?" he asks.

I lift my fingers from my throat. "I'm sorry, Declan. Your life is more important to me than his, and you won't stand a chance without your right hand."

"She's right," Mom agrees. "Both of you, go." She and Dad exchange a kiss before Declan runs west toward town and before Dad begins ushering the injured and my troop between the trees, covering them as they run.

"The rest of you, our soldiers: Continue forward, keep Gunther's army in the yard. Fire at will, at as many as you can. The implanted people can't be saved now, so shoot to kill." The words taste like poison in my mouth, but what else can I do? I have to protect my people. "Those of you with electric guns, aim your shots at the tops of the collector droids, that's where they are most vulnerable. This is our chance to survive, and we need to take it. Over and out."

I release my hand, and hear my orders echoed through the forest. "C'mon, keep firing! Don't stop! Not until they are all down!" The shouts reverberate against the body of the Beast.

"What about the Nomads?" Mom asks. I nod, and climb over the toppled balcony rail, into the control room.

The Beast, like the Immortal, has a loudspeaker, and I lift the radio box from its place on the fallen wall near my feet. "Carmine is dead," I say, and the words echo in the forest. "I repeat, Carmine is dead. This is Isla Blume of the Deathless. You can have Virginia. Just follow through with Carmine's plan. He said you were waiting for his word: This is it. Do your part, and when this is over, Virginia is yours. You have my word. I repeat, follow through with your plan, and Virginia is yours."

I drop the radio and hurry back to meet my mom. "Do you think that worked?" she asks.

"Let's hope so," I say. I take a deep breath, feeling my courage starting to fade. I wonder if I've made the right choices. The choices General Kazemi and General Sato would have made. But there's no time to think about that now. Now it's time to join the fight. "Ready, Mom?" I ask.

She rests her gun in its holster and takes my hand in hers, pulling it to her lips and kissing the top of my skin. This is familiar. It's what she did before running for the Prowlers at the house so I could get away. Then she kisses my forehead. "I love you," she says.

"I love you too," I say. I feel myself tearing up, but now is not the time and there's no reason. We're both surviving this. I have to believe that.

Together, we race behind the nearest tree. From there I can see the yard. Lifeless drone people march in unison, chanting the same words over and over again: "Find Isla Blume." It's meant to intimidate me, but it only draws me further into the fight.

We hurry to the next tree, ducking shots as they splinter through the trunks around us. Behind the line of mindless soldiers march the Prowlers, opening their hatches and bellowing my name like they did when they attacked the refugee camp. "A-ya oom," they roar.

They don't scare me anymore. I run faster to the next tree, Mom close behind. Finally, we catch up to the other Deathless and Originals. I dive into the nearest foxhole and Mom tumbles in after me, squishing the two soldiers already inside. "Sorry," I say before I see who they are: Celia and Phoebe.

I spring my arms around Celia. "I'm so glad you're safe," I say, and she squeezes me tighter.

"I'm alright," she says, though the shaking in her voice betrays her. "I've never fought the collector droids before, though."

Phoebe overhears her and interjects, "You focus on Gunther's soldiers. I made the collector droids. Leave it to me to destroy the bastards."

Her electric gun buzzes with charge, and Phoebe springs the weapon over the foxhole edge to shoot. A burst of energy emits from her gun, flying straight for the top of one of the Prowlers. The machine shakes in malfunction, but doesn't fall down until Phoebe recharges her weapon and shoots a second time.

She relaxes into the hole as her gun charges again. "Good to see you both alive, by the way," she tells me and my mom. "When the Beast tipped over, was anyone on the other side?"

"General Kazemi," I choke, "and the leader from the tree Nomads."

Phoebe rests her palm on her forehead and closes her eyes. "I have lost nearly every single person I've ever called a friend," she says. Then, as if she's remembered she's in front of people, she opens her eyes and puts on a brave face. "I'm sorry to hear about Yasmin. She was a damn good General and an even better person. Just like Sato. This war has taken too many good people from us. I'm pissed as hell."

"Time to fight back," Mom says.

I let my electric gun charge, and Mom checks her bullets. Our eyes meet.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Together," Mom replies.

"Always," Celia says.

Phoebe nods, and the four of us spring up in unison. Mom and Celia pick off soldiers with their traditional guns, and since I can't escape seeing their red blood splashing onto the snow, I pretend we're still in the immersion program. They aren't real, I lie to get myself. None of this is real.

Phoebe and I aim our electric guns at the Prowlers. Over and over again we shoot, but we have so many enemies that it never seems to make much of a difference. We are picking at spears of grass in a valley of green.

Gunther's voice booms over the chaos: "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

He's trying to lure me out of hiding, but I'm not the impulsive girl who yells at sociopaths in ballrooms anymore. I'm in control and I'm choosing to stand as a warrior with my army. I have to be calculating, not impulsive. Like Gunther.

The four of us shoot another round at the soldiers and machines in the yard, but every time we stop to load, they march closer. Without their fear and pain centers of their brains working, there's no stopping the soldiers until they actually fall down dead. And without a better angle on the Prowlers, there's no way we can get them all in time. No matter what our army does, the line keeps pushing its way to our doorstep.

"The Nomads should be firing for support," Mom suggests.

"Not until we push Gunther back," I say.

"Let's fire again," Celia suggests, and we load our weapons.

On Mom's command, the four of us spring up again. The soldiers and Prowlers are nearly at the forest's edge. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Deathless fall dead here and there, and I know that soon we will too if we can't stop them.

"This is pointless, where is Gunther?" Phoebe yells over the screams of war.

"Behind the machines," Mom replies.

As Mom, Celia, and I continue to fire at the soldiers and Prowlers, tearing down their line little by little, Phoebe slides back into the hole and begins untying her cloak.

"What are you doing?" I ask, without taking my eyes off my targets. One more Prowler down.

"Gunther wants to play games? I'll play games," she says, throwing her cloak from her shoulders. "How strong is this armor?"

"Strong enough to protect from bullets," Celia says without losing aim. "The problem is when we are hit between the plates or below the helmet. Why?"

Phoebe secures her helmet on her head. "Because now I'm going to go to the source."

"That's crazy, you're going to be killed out there," I say.

"Then I die doing something I believe in. How many people can say that?"

She is about to lift herself out of the foxhole when Celia asks, "What about Winston?"

Phoebe diverts her eyes for a moment, staring blankly at the frozen earth beneath her hands. "I never let my emotions get in the way of my duties before. I'm not going to start now. If I die...." She swallows hard. "If I die, let Winston know that... that I always admired him for his courage and his intellect, and that he was loved dearly. He'll find a way to survive after that. We all do."

She lifts herself out of the foxhole and races toward the Beast to the pile of the dead. In one unapologetic motion, she rips a drone leg from the head of one of Gunther's soldiers and snaps it from its disabled drone.

She must have been spotted, because all the sudden, the gunfire moves from our direction to the Beast's. Bullets sink into lifeless bodies as she leaps behind a tree for cover.

"Is that the Phoebe Clark?" Gunther's voice echoes over the yard. "I must say... I've missed those lips."

"Piss off, Gunther," she screams from behind the tree. Then, tumbling over the earth, Phoebe rolls toward one of the nearby pods, and takes shelter in it before a barrage of bullets send cracks through its windshield. She straps into the pod, smiling like a maniac. From our angle, I can almost say for certain she is smiling at Gunther. She shifts the gear into drive and begins spinning into the yard.

She waves her arm wildly for Deathless and Original soldiers to move out of her way as she steers toward Gunther. Some dive to avoid her path while others duck into their foxholes; but soon, Phoebe makes it into the open yard.

I swear I can hear her laughing, even from here, as she crashes into the mindless soldiers like she's driving through some sort of backwards obstacle course in which she must hit every obstacle. She knocks them over in small groups, zipping between the bodies, and the rest of us continue shooting from the forest.

"Don't stop!" I scream. "Fire!"

If one of our own is risking her life to help ours, we better have her back, no matter how crazy she is.

As Phoebe approaches a Prowler, it lifts its shovel arm to slam the pod. Glass shatters, and I freeze, sure Phoebe's been crushed with it, but then I see an armored body roll from the beneath the Prowler's arm. She finds her balance and, crouching down, fires her electric gun straight at the machine. It shakes and rumbles in malfunction, and at that distance, one shot is all it needs to fall forward in disrepair. Phoebe leaps out of range, and faces the next Prowler.

I touch the voice box to my throat. "Push forward! Now's our chance!" I order. "Cover Phoebe!"

She may just be crazy enough to actually reach Gunther, I think.

Mom, Celia, and I leap out of the foxhole and begin charging the yard with the rest of the Deathless, the Originals, and the rubble sweepers from the sides. Now the soldiers are cornered.

I spot Gunther in the distance, and, realizing that we've somehow gained the advantage, he begins running back into the woods, straight toward the Nomads. As he nears the forest's edge, spears rain down on him, deflecting off his force field, until the tree line is full of warriors. There's nowhere for Gunther or his army to turn now. Even the Prowlers cease their stomping.

Is this where we win?

We continue closing in on Gunther's soldiers, shooting them down, though I'm still aiming for the drones. I can't bring myself to send electricity into their hearts, stopping them dead.

One of the soldiers points his gun at me and fires. The bullet slams against my chest, knocking the wind out of me. I fall back, coughing to catch my breath. Mom is over me, firing her gun repeatedly. I hear a pained groan just before she bends down to check on me. I know my attacker must have been killed.

"Are you okay?" Mom asks, checking me for blood. Celia frantically covers us, eyeing me from above.

"It didn't pierce the armor, did it?" she asks.

"I'm fine," I cough, rubbing my chest.

Then I feel it. I'm such an idiot! The necklace Declan gave me! Without the amplifier Daniel and I made, it wouldn't have done much good before, but now—at this distance—I could disable most of the drones, and possibly even weaken some of the Prowlers.

If I'm lucky, I might even be able to use it to against Gunther's force field, but I'd have to get closer.

I see Phoebe preparing to attack him a few yards away. She kicks back her feet, like a bull ready to charge, and arms herself with her charged electric gun in one hand and the drone leg in the other.

Time moves slowly.

Phoebe starts into a sprint, and I allow momentary insanity to spring me forward as well. I run into the heart of Gunther's army. Mom screams my name behind me, but I can't stop. I need to get close enough to all of them, especially Gunther, to knock out their power, at least long enough to really get an advantage over Gunther's army.

Just as Phoebe leaps forward to tackle Gunther, and just as his soldiers pivot to encircle me, I rip the pendant from beneath my armor and squeeze the two ends, sending a small EMP shockwave through the yard.

Gunther's soldiers collapse around me, no longer controlled by their parasitic drones, and Gunther's force field is down long enough for Phoebe to pummel Gunther, sending them both careening into the bunker pit. A cloud of dirt rises and groans sound as they disappear from view.

I run to the edge of the pit and watch as Phoebe and Gunther tumble to its bottom. They look like rag dolls as they roll down the pit's side, but when they settle at the bottom, I'm reminded of their humanity. Phoebe's been impaled with the drone leg, right in the gap between her chest plate and her pelvic armor. The fabric beneath her armor saturates with blood. Gunther's leg is contorted into a strange shape, twisting up and behind his body, though his force field flickers back into place around him.

Is he dead? I wonder. He doesn't move, and neither does Phoebe. His mindless soldiers have fallen down around us without the control of a leader telling them what to do, and for a few moments, the yard is silent as we wait to see what will happen next.

My pendant couldn't have ended this war, I think. Could it?

I squint to try to focus more closely on his face—I have to be sure he's really dead—when his eyes fly open. A pained gasp echoes from the bottom of the pit. I jump back, startled. Gunther begins yelling, probably from the pain, though it could be a battle cry. His eyes are fixed on mine.

"Isla, watch out," my mom cries, but as I turn to see what she's telling me to watch out for, a Prowler arm swats me away from the edge of the pit, throwing me into the air. I fall right on my back, and once again, the air is pushed from my lungs. I feel flattened, and gulp the air to fill myself up again, but it's too much of a strain on my lungs. I cough to catch my breath and roll onto my side. Mom and Celia rush to my side and help me up amidst the downed drones and their hosts.

The Prowlers awaken, no longer stopped by the temporary EMP, but I'm suddenly aware of two sounds more frightening than their gears.

First, the distance hum of airplanes. If Gunther has reinforcements, we will be wiped out.

And then, the subtle scraping of metal against bone. I look down at Gunther's soldiers. The drones are alive again—my pulse only knocked them out temporarily—and they are peeling their legs from the brains of the soldiers. Blood oozes over the cold earth as the drones lift into the air above us. They hover ominously, their lights scanning us, and we are frozen at their mercy.

At any moment, their lasers could char us or they could descend, sinking their legs between our armor plates. At least our helmets would keep them out of our brains, but what use is a brain without a beating heart?

I was wrong: This isn't where we win.

From behind me, gun hammers click bullets into place and electric guns hum as they charge.

This is where we die fighting.