Chapter 21

Zane's hand hesitated at the door that would lead them to New Vancouver.

His palm was inches from the handle, itching to open the door. His brain was a mirage of thoughts and urges, rules and rebellion. His old life was just beyond this door, and he wasn't yet sure he wouldn't go back if the opportunity presented itself.

Instead, he stepped back and let Joseph open the imposing, overly overwhelming door. He rubbed his hands together because he had suddenly gotten very cold. He hugged his arms to himself and shivered violently as New Vancouver was revealed.

The artificial sun was lowering, proving Joseph's assumption of a late afternoon. A simulated breeze brushed past them, and they stepped over the threshold, clear of the building that had imprisoned them for so long.

They stood in silence, the man-made grass crinkling underfoot. Knowing he had been fed a miasma of lies, Zane began to notice the subtle inconsistencies that had passed for normal before. The artificial sun did not radiate enough heat to stifle the cold he felt. The fake grass did not house insects. The cloud patterns across the screens on the ceiling were too direct and abstract. It was all too perfect, too free of imperfections.

Zane blinked against the harsh fluorescence and squinted. The city's buildings rose swiftly into the sky, towering above the humans that could be seen walking below. Zane frowned. Not walking. Marching. Marching orderly down the street in arranged lines. Maybe some things had changed in the three weeks he'd been in the building.

"It's achingly familiar," Joseph said, pinching his eyebrows together. His voice shook the solid silence that had befallen the group. His eyes were worried, the sky blue fading into a desolate sea of the past.

Zane grabbed his hand, succeeding in halting the shaking of his own hand as well as the other boy's. It kept Joseph from wringing his hands. Their fingers interlaced and Zane saw Daisy slide a sly glance his way. He rolled his eyes.

Together, they all took a step away from the horrific episode of their past, and then another. It became a brisk walk, headed for the outskirts, where lonely buildings laid. Lonely buildings that had slowly been abandoned as the growth rate of the city slowed substantially. Lonely buildings that would serve great refuge.

Zane found his legs wobbling, but held on tight to Joseph, trusting him for support and reliability. He didn't disappoint, his strong grip never lessening, his stride never slowing.

The building faded in the distance, and looked increasingly small the farther away they got. Zane began to wonder how he'd been afraid of such a small blot against the background of New Vancouver. It appeared to be a blemish, a building from the outskirts repurposed for inhumane experiments.

The bullet train tracks glinted, throwing light into Zane's eyes. "I can't believe we're finally free of Wawrzynski," he whispered, more to himself than anybody else.

Soon they were engulfed from the eye of the citizens by a towering apartment building of old. Due to the absence of rain, a layer of dust had formed over the surface of the metal structure. The acrid tang of steel hung thick in the air, and Zane found himself somewhat revulsed by a smell he'd known his entire life. It seemed to make the air sticky and clammy, making it harder to breathe.

They angled their pace until they were closely paralleled to the large wall that closed off the city.

As he walked, Zane ran his hand along the wall, the other still firmly clasping Joseph's. His fingertips were sliced by the faint gaps between panels of steel, and he felt small drops of blood well upon his fingers. It made him feel strangely human. Being a model citizen, he had seen his blood a few times before. The first was after the titular injection of the serum, and he was shocked at how red the liquid was, how utterly deathly it appeared.

As soon as the small, terrible building was out of sight, they collapsed, backs against the wall, shielded by an old bungalow, its roof layered in ancient shingles. The shade it threw protected them from the artificial harshness of the sun.

The others were situated nearby, splayed against the cold steel, exuberant and fearful looks scrawled across their faces, mirroring the environment around them. Several were glancing back in the general direction they'd come, but Zane didn't. For once in his life, he was willing to forget something and leave it behind. He never wanted to see that building again and he wanted to wipe every moment inside from his memory.

Except for a select few.

"We're out," Marcus whispered. "We made it."

Mallory smiled broadly. "We sure did. We fucking did it." Her voice echoed off the nearby buildings, but it hardly mattered. They were no longer overheard, no longer watched. Zane felt the invisible eyes lift from his back and the dark cloud pass by over his head. They were out.

Zane was seated next to Joseph, their shoulders pressed together and their fingers interlocked. The warmth radiating from both of them was enough to cease Zane's anxious shivering. Instead, he found himself feeling empowered, as if the whole world was laid out in front of him, an overload of possible possibilities, all within reach. He could reach out and grasp one, make it his own future, lead himself in his own direction.

He smiled and revelled in the ecstasy surrounding him.

In his head, he mentally ran over the memories he knew would stick with him forever, some of the only memories he'd retained in his entire, miserable life.

His manipulated brain had forgotten many of the initial injections, but he would always remember the first one, the way it made his skin boil and burn. If he closed his eyes, he could practically see the pink fluid rushing through his veins.

The five teenagers around him served as reminders of all their shared experiences, both the bad and the good, the anger and the trust. He knew he would never forget them because of the experiences they'd shared.

And distinct memories of Wawrzynski would stay with him for a long time. Words the manic man had said, things he'd done, actions he'd threatened. Zane may never remember if his parents were proud of him, or the name of his first grade teacher, but Lucas Wawrzynski would always haunt his thoughts.

"What do we do now?" Joseph asked, squeezing Zane's hand tighter, a worried frown creasing his jawline.

Zane knew their final destination was now Japan in an effort to stop an unnecessary war, but how to get there, he had no idea. Oh, well. One step at a time. "There were people marching down the streets," he said, cocking his head.

"What do you mean 'marching'?" asked Joseph. Zane felt his muscles tense.

"I mean," he said. "Marching in single file, arranged in multiple lines, down the center of the street."

Daisy scoffed. "From what you've told us about this place, is that really so abnormal?" She chuckled, amused at her own whimsy. Zane, not so much. He scowled at her and raised an eyebrow. She punched him.

Joseph looked straight ahead, his eyes fixing on the old bungalow. "It is abnormal," he told her. "Even though everything here is planned out, people can still walk freely, smartass." He turned to Zane. "What do you think is going on?"

Zane may have lived in this city his entire life, but this development was unexpected and confusing. "I have absolutely no idea," he said truthfully, not wanting to lie to Joseph. He tapped the fingers of his free hand on his leg, drumming over the previous gun wound. It tingled a little, and like the blood, reminded Zane he was human.

Mallory fixed her gaze on the clasped hands between the two boys. "We'll just have to scout it out, then, won't we?" she asked confidently. She nodded as if to confirm her own assumptions, and intertwined her fingers with Marcus's as Zane's were with Joseph's. It seemed to soften her resolve and strengthen her confidence. Zane anticipated this was the case because that's how he always felt whenever his skin touched Joseph's. He felt powerful.

"We will," Zane told her, smiling broadly. "We'll find out what's going on, and figure out a course of action that will lead us in the right direction."

"Woah, perfectionist alert," Daisy boldly blurted. Then she cupped her hands over her mouth, forming an impromptu megaphone. "Call in the big guns, we've got a live one!"

"Bitch," Zane muttered.

"You know you love me,"

At some point, Zane's boredom ended up getting the best of him and he stood up, detangling his hand from Joseph's. He dusted off his legs vivaciously, embarrassed, being the only one not seated.

"I'm going to check out that bungalow," he said, with an undertone of curiosity and intrigue. "Maybe there's some leftover canned food or something." He met Joseph's eyes, and he knew immediately that the other boy could sense his lie. He only wanted to keep moving, keep himself busy. An uneventful day was not what he wanted right now. It would be a painful reminder.

He felt all their eyes on him as he strode toward the small house. The artificial sun was sinking lower and lower, and the fake sky darkened, the clouds dispersing to reveal a waxing moon. He shivered, the heat of the day disappearing, replaced by the shocking cold of the simulated air. The citizens of New Vancouver would be in their homes, abiding by the external curfew. The internal curfew would not be for a couple hours.

Zane swung open the small door. It swung inward, striking the plaster wall that was extremely alien to him. The door handle appeared to be the only metal in sight. It was dented in several places, creating an awkward handhold.

The first step Zane took echoed around the lengthy hallway just past the door. He immediately noticed the tacky wallpaper covered in pretty pink flowers perking up from wonderfully green stems. Zane laughed.

He left the door open behind him. The first room he came upon was clearly a living room. Ratty old couches were slumped against even tackier wallpaper, this time with waves and pelicans. He saw several lamps atop side tables, their cords flung around their bases, their bulbs unscrewed. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling, the plaster around it cracked and shifting.

A carpet was underfoot, but Zane didn't even step into the room because there was a dead mouse on the floor. It struck him that this house was from before New Vancouver, because the only living things in here now were humans. If this house had had mice living in it, it certainly was from a different time. This is the first time I've seen a real animal, he thought, amazed. He had seen Marcus as a horse, but did that really count? This mouse had been alive and living at one time, and Zane couldn't help but feel disappointed that it wasn't still.

He moved on.

Across the hallway from the carpeted dead mouse room was a kitchen. Zane couldn't help but be surprised by the barbarism of the appliances. A gas stove that produced real flames instead of the smooth electromagnetic models deep in downtown. A tall, bulky refrigerator with visible wires instead of the inset ice boxes Zane had come to know as normal, hidden behind a set of doors that could be easily child-proofed.

Like in the other room, an enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling, this one in better shape. Zane shivered. Was it just him, or was it getting colder?

He passed a small decrepit bathroom before coming upon a set of rickety stairs. They creaked underfoot, sending vibrations through his body. He stuck his hands in his pockets to protect them from the frosty air. The wallpaper followed him up the stairs, a haunting rendition.

At the top of the stairs was a wide window that looked straight into the heart of New Vancouver. Frost had begun to creep over the window, and Zane knew for a fact it was getting colder. His breath came out as vapor and fogged the glass, disrupting his view of the city.

Zane marvelled at the patterns of the glass-like ice on the window. It was foreign, something strange and new. Jagged spires of white shot through sections of translucent white, creating magnificent patterns that swirled back and forth. He wondered if this was similar to the snow Daisy had talked about. He reached out and touched the glass. It certainly was cold.

His nose was red, his eyelashes icicles. He was shivering uncontrollably, having never had a problem with extreme cold in his life. New Vancouver was temperature-regulated, so it stayed at a realtovely constant temperature year-round. Except for now.

He found a bedroom upstairs, the bed neatly made and books thrown perfectly on nearby shelves. They appeared to be cheesy romance novels, the kind prohibited in New Vancouver for their promises of unconditional love, regarded to be a bad thing. It sparked revolutions.

The cold was beginning to become unbearable, the temperature dropping with each passing moment. Zane grabbed the multiple layers of coverings from the bed and wrapped them around himself. He also found several more in a chest at the end of the bed. If it was as cold outside as it was in here, the others would need a way to keep in body heat as well.

Zane left the house, the chill surrounding him like an old friend even though he'd never felt it before. He once again left the door open, this time by accident.

He saw Joseph first, walking toward the bungalow he'd been in, shivering violently. His arms were wrapped around himself, his gaze focused on the ground in front of him, the only natural aspect of New Vancouver. It was freezing, a sheen of white racing across it like clouds across the sky. The fake sky, of course.

He looked up and saw Zane. His face flooded with relief. "I thought you'd be an ice cube by now," he said, his teeth chattering and obstructing his speech.

Zane laughed mirthlessly. "I won't go down that easily,"

Zane wrapped a blanket around the boy and they walked back to the others, where they distributed the remaining covers and duvets.

Mallory was grumpy. "Why the fuck is it so cold?" she asked furiously. "I thought this place was perfect, not perfectly arctic." Her olive skin had paled and her black hair seemed almost gray, as if it too had frozen over.

Zane scooted closer to Joseph, hoping to feel the familiar rush of warmth. "I think it's Wawrzynski," he said slowly. His voice shook, both from cold and fear. "He can't find us, so he has to turn to a different method of corralling us back."

Daisy raised a particular finger to the sky. "So he decided to make us ice sculptures?"

The sky had darkened in the several minutes he'd been in the bungalow, and the sun was completely below the horizon now, its warmth, however simulated, gone. Zane noticed Joseph's slight chin stubble was frozen, making him look far older than he actually was.

"I bet his first thought was to smoke us out," Zane said. "Obviously that can't work. Smoke doesn't dissipate in a big steel cage. Temperature, he can regulate. Turn it up or down with the push of a button. All the citizens are inside, so altering the outside temperature is a breeze." He laughed at his own joke.

Joseph looked confused. "Where does he get that kind of authority?" he asked, puzzled.

"I don't know, Joseph," Zane responded. If the governors allowed Wawrzynski to alter the interior atmosphere of New Vancouver, Zane and the others might be more important than they'd initially thought. If such great measures were taken to repossess them, exactly how important were they? "But he's trying to force us into the city."

Anastasia laid her hands over the ground in front of them, and a crack opened in the earth. Magma spewed forth, radiating heat and fire. The heat was so intense they had to back up to avoid incineration. Zane's eyelashes unfroze and the ground warmed up, the grass revealing itself after its brief tangle with ice. Anastasia had a sparkle in her eye. "He'll have to try a little harder," she said defiantly.

Mallory cocked her head at Daisy's twin. "If he didn't know you were with us before, he will now," she said.

Mallory still seemed apprehensive about Anastasia. They had only very recently met her, and she was extremely powerful. She was a force of nature, and Zane only hoped she was on their side to stay. Daisy sure trusted her, so Zane felt he had to as well.

Zane craned his neck to look at the tall buildings rising to the sky in downtown New Vancouver. Something wasn't sitting right with him. The militarism? The sudden extreme measures to force Zane and his friends back into Wawrzynski's clutches? Whatever it was, he couldn't place it.

He turned back to his friends with a heavy feeling in his gut, a feeling of bad things to come.