Dr. Gooding stood speechless for a moment, then said, “This is seriously fucked up.”

“Mom, you and the swearing!” Maggie said.

“Are you arguing with my professional assessment, dear?”

“No.”

“Okay, then. We need to get out of town.”

“But that’s when they’ll catch us,” Maggie said.

“One more thing,” I interjected. “There’s an X-ray that shows how they’re keeping tabs on us.”

Maggie pulled up the image on the computer: her upper arm with a little white spot.

“What’s that?” her mom asked.

“We think it’s for tracking and perception manipulation,” I said. “A mental implant like mine is supposed to command my brain to do anything, but when I got hit in the head at football, all of a sudden I saw the world as a mess—a disasterland. That perception didn’t last, but it came back when I took another hit at the fire, and then it came back for good when I got smashed in the head today, and this time it isn’t going away. I’m seeing our reality: We’re living in a radiation nightmare right now. You guys’ perceptions are being manipulated through another device. I bet if you took that thing out of Maggie’s arm, she wouldn’t be seeing the illusion anymore, either.”

“You’ve got one, too,” Maggie said to her mom. “See the scar? They implanted us when we first got to camp, saying they were giving us flu shots. It sounds like it makes things look the way we want them to look. Some kind of wish fulfillment.”

Maggie X-rayed her mom, and then Dr. Gooding had Maggie on a table with a surgery light trained on Maggie’s arm. The doctor made a small incision and probed for the pellet, and it came out.

“Oh, shit,” Maggie said. “Everything is wrong. It’s all yellow, gray, sick-looking. Is this what the real world looks like?”

“I think so,” I said. “Everything is so much worse than the illusion we’d been enjoying.”

“Well,” Maggie’s mom said, “much as I like all the greenery, you’d better take mine out. Just don’t kill me, please.”

Maggie’s knife work wasn’t as efficient or neat as her mom’s, and Dr. Gooding grimaced a few times, but eventually Maggie produced a pellet the size of a bean.

Maggie’s mom kept her eyes closed throughout and seemed reluctant to open them afterward. Finally, she did, taking in the room, me, and her daughter.

“Well,” she said, “everything sucks right now, but you two are still beautiful.”

“Aw, Mom,” Maggie said, and gave her a hug.

I took Maggie’s hand and gave her a look. She knew what I was thinking and gave me a sad nod.

“Dr. Gooding,” I said, “there’s one more thing you should know.”

Just then there was a knock on the door.

“Anybody want some coffee?” came the smooth male voice from outside.

“Oh, shoot me now,” Maggie said. “It’s Bud Fucking Winkle.”

CHAPTER 51

Maggie

MOM LOOKED LIKE I’d slapped her in the face and took a moment to compose herself and put on a welcoming smile before opening the door to Bud Winkle, who was holding two cardboard coffee cups.