First, I go to a nearby bank and open a checking account—I never needed one before today. They deposit my check from Aether and I ask for $5,000 in cash from the teller. It barely makes a dent in all the money in my account.

I should feel free now. I don’t have to worry about what will happen after I turn eighteen. I can go to college, find a place to live. My future looks bright for the first time in my life, but I still feel like I shouldn’t be here in the present. And thinking of how I almost stayed in the future brings back memories of Adam and how he betrayed us. A part of me wishes I could talk to him. A part of me wants to strangle him.

I take a bus downtown to Union Station. The crowd surges around me as I check the train times on the screen. This is the last part of my plan to keep us all alive. If I’m gone, I can’t kill anyone. If I disappear, Aether won’t be able to find me. And since they know I have evidence against them, they won’t kill the others—not unless they want me to go public with it.

I buy a ticket to New Orleans, the farthest city available. I check my watch. Thirteen minutes until the train arrives. Thirty-six minutes until the window for Trent’s death begins. He’s supposed to be killed sometime between 3:00 and 4:30 p.m. But I’ve done everything I could to make sure we’ll all be safe. We’re not going to die, I tell myself over and over.

But I can’t help feeling like I missed something, like I forgot something, some piece of the puzzle, some part of the equation. But that’s impossible. I never forget anything. Everything is stored away in my head. I just can’t see how it all fits together.

Maybe I can text Trent, tell him to be careful or to get out of town, just in case. But as I grab my phone I realize I don’t have his number. I don’t even know if he has a phone.

But I remember the location where he was killed. I could go there, make sure he’s still alive…

No, I have to get on this train. It’s the only way to guarantee I won’t kill the others. The only way I’ll know for sure that I’ll be alive tomorrow.

But with each passing minute the feeling that something’s wrong grows. It gnaws at me, itching underneath my skin, begging me to scratch at it. My gut tells me none of us are safe, and I can’t ignore it.

The train arrives, but I can’t get on. I have to know if Trent is okay. Even if it might lead to my own death.