I wasn’t sure whether she was looking for praise or expecting me to condemn her for showing mercy. I elected for the praise. “Good call,” I said, nodding. “We’re going to need that pretty little head of hers intact if we’re going to crack it open, pry out all its secrets, and use them to bring down the CDC.”

“Right,” said Becks, slowly. “Were you on the line to Mahir just now? Because I thought I heard voices in there.”

“Psychotic break, remember?” I shrugged. “Look, Becks—Rebecca—you know what you’re getting out of this team. We’re damaged goods, some more than others. I’m so damaged I’m practically remaindered. If you can cope with that, I can promise you the ride of your life. If you can’t, I have the feeling that when we go back in there,” I hooked a finger toward the door to Dr. Abbey’s lab, “you lose the last chance to cash in your ticket on the crazy train.”

“I like trains,” said Becks. Her expression sobered before she added, “And I loved your sister. She was the first person who gave me a chance to prove myself in the field. She was a damn good reporter. So if you’re a little nuts, so what? I think it’s pretty obvious that we’re all mad here.”

“Great,” I said. We were the only things that moved as we walked toward the door. “She didn’t want to let you go. I had to haggle like a bastard to get you away from the Newsies.”

“She recognized talent when she saw it,” said Becks, with a small smile.

“Yes, she did,” I replied, with utter seriousness. Becks blinked, smile fading as she saw the look on my face. “So did I. I’m about to ask all of you to go all-in—put up or shut up, because we’re done treading water.” I was echoing some of what George had said to me, but that was okay. She was a figment of my insanity, and she probably wouldn’t sue me for plagiarism. “Not all of us are going to walk away from this one alive.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Becks actually laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the empty structures around us. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since I started working with you people, it’s that no one gets out alive.” She leaned over, kissing me lightly on the cheek and then speed-walking the rest of the way to the door. “No one,” she repeated, and was gone.

I stopped, touching my cheek and staring after her in bewilderment. “What the fuck was that?”

A complication, said George. She sounded amused. Also, a girl thing.

“Right.” I dropped my hand. “Glad to see you’re back where you belong.”

I’m right here. Until the end.

“Great.” I started forward again. “Come on, George. Check this out.”

BOOK III

The Mourning Edition

All I wanted was a little excitement in my life. Was that such a horrible thing to ask?

—REBECCA “BECKS” ATHERTON