It’s Marina’s voice that snaps me out of my rage or I’d probably kill Phiri right there. I spin around and see her bent over Adam.

“Is he . . . ?!”

I limp across the clearing, forgetting that there’s a six-inch piece of jagged steel protruding from my thigh. I ignore the pain. Adam’s in much worse shape than I am.

I stagger around the small hill of earth Adam was able to construct in the few seconds before the explosion. It absorbed a lot of the shrapnel, but not enough. The bomb still basically detonated right in front of him, so Adam took the brunt of the blast. He’s on his back now, Marina leaning over him, and I cringe at the amount of damage he’s taken. His entire midsection is blown open, like he’s been scooped out. He should’ve dived out of the way instead of standing there like a human shield. Stupid Mog, trying to be a hero.

Amazingly, Adam’s still conscious. He can’t speak; all the strength he can muster seems to be going into breathing. His eyes are wide and scared as he sucks in wet, rattling breaths. His hands, soaked with his blood, are curled into tight fists.

“I can do this, I can do this . . . ,” Marina repeats to herself, not hesitating at all as she lays her hands on Adam’s grisly wound. Looking over her shoulder, helpless, I realize how sadly familiar this situation must be for Marina. It’s like Eight all over again.

As Adam’s breathing becomes more and more ragged, I watch as his insides begin to knit themselves back together under Marina’s touch. And then something disturbing happens—there’s a crackle and hiss, like a fire starting, and a piece of Adam’s midsection briefly sparks before disintegrating into that familiar Mogadorian death ash.

Marina cries out in surprise, pulling her hands away.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, eyes wide.

“I don’t know!” Marina yells. “Something’s fighting me, Six. I’m afraid I’m hurting him.”

The second Marina’s healing stops, Adam’s still-open wound begins bleeding again. He’s getting pale. More pale than usual, even. His hand scrabbles through the dirt and gropes for Marina.

“Don’t . . . agh, don’t stop,” Adam manages to gurgle, and when he does I can see that there’s dark blood in his mouth. “Whatever happens . . . don’t stop.”