We pick up the pace, moving between buildings with broken windows, through alleyways covered in brick dust and debris, across the motor court of what I imagine must have been some kind of car refueling station. We stop one more time to catch our breath, Malachai by this time beginning to moan as he regains consciousness.

Finally, we come to a three-story building with VRCADE written in angular neon tubes across the front. Molly lets go of Malachai’s arms, leaving me holding his legs in front of the elaborately decorated double doors.

“In here,” she says, pushing her way through and holding the doors open as I drag Malachai into the dark room beyond. I notice that the dreamy quality to her voice is starting to fade, just as it would if the effects of Ebb were wearing off.

I put down Malachai’s legs, stretch my back, then look around to find myself in a room full of corpses.

In Purgatory

There are hundreds of pale and lifeless bodies in the rectangular room, male and female, standing upright in cylindrical glass chambers filled with liquid. The horrifying cadavers are lit by a blue-green glow. Their blank eyes gaze lifelessly out, seeing nothing at all. Their bodies are all gaunt, their skin almost translucent.

My heart lurches. I’ve done it. I didn’t even mean to, but I’ve found the Missing. And yet … this isn’t exactly the army we were hoping for …

Beside each chamber is a half-dismantled old cell phone from at least a hundred years ago, lines of code flickering on the screens, wires protruding and snaking to the cylinders. A single stream of tiny bubbles emits from the base of each tube—near the feet of the dead—and rises to the top.

I can hardly breathe, hardly comprehend the things I’m seeing.

“This way,” Molly says, moving toward the back of the room.

For a few seconds I can’t follow; I can only stare astounded at the dead that surround me. My eyes fall upon the skeletal face of a beautiful young girl who—despite the contortions of death—I recognize.

“Molly,” I say, stepping deeper into the room. “Molly, that’s Day.”

I can’t take my eyes off the face of my friend Day Cho, the girl who—along with her mother—saved my life when Tyco drugged me and was going to kill me. If Molly and Day are here, maybe Shion is too—and the other clones who were hiding out in the financial district.

“I know,” Molly says. “Hurry up, they’ll be sending drones.”

I almost remind her about Apple-Moth, but remember how low the drone’s battery was. Molly makes her way over to three empty chambers. I drag Malachai over to her slowly.

“Molly, what is this place?”

“Just help me, will you?” she snaps as she pulls Malachai’s stirring body toward one of the tubes.