She had been the last to be freed from the Loop, a scared little child who had refused to escape with us. She had run into the train tunnels alone and been eaten alive by rats. Or so I had thought.

“When we found her,” Maddox says, startling me out of my shock, “the rats had consumed much of her; they had eaten her eyes, bitten out her tongue. But she was alive.”

“You … How could you?”

“She was quite mad, couldn’t understand why she was still alive, just kept on screaming over and over again. But, as you can see, she still has her uses.”

“You’re evil,” I say, the words stammering out of my mouth.

“Sacrifices are necessary to bring about change,” Happy says, speaking through Maddox.

“Is that always so?” Tyco’s voice comes from behind me.

I watch an expression of curiosity come over Maddox’s face as his illuminated eyes meet Tyco’s.

How can they disagree? I wonder. They are the same entity.

Galen leans forward. “You see, Luka, everything that has happened and everything that is going to happen is for the good of the planet and for the good of the people.”

“Just not for the people who are still alive,” I say, tears forming in my eyes as I look down at the girl who I have failed.

Galen laughs. “Sometimes we have to think bigger; sometimes we have to think outside of our own insignificant lives.” He smiles at me. “Tomorrow, Luka, at dawn, you will stand onstage and tell the world the truth: that you have joined us.”

“Once you have what you need,” I say, “once you have figured out how the healing technology works, kill us both, me and her, please.”

Galen looks to Tyco; the host takes me by the arm and leads me back to the elevator.

We travel down three floors, and I’m led to a large room.

Tyco stands in the doorway. “These are your quarters for the night. You will be taken to the ground floor at six a.m.”

He closes the door. A lock clicks and I’m left alone.

The room looks like someone’s idea of a high-class hotel room. Sleek black floor and walls punctuated with hidden lights. The far wall is one enormous window that looks out over the city. There is a four-poster bed half-sunk into the floor with black sheets and pillows.

I stand, unmoving. I think of Mable tied to the operating table, having lost her mind more than nine weeks ago.

How long was she left alone in those tunnels? How long did the rats eat away at her while her wounds healed themselves over and over again?

I walk across the room and open a door that leads to a bathroom. I stumble toward the shower, pulling off my Alt military uniform as I go.