I thought guns would be pointed at my face when I ran upstairs, but it was empty. Dark. Unlike the lobby, the floors were bright and cleaned; fresh plants were placed in the hall. I couldn't help but feel welcomed instead. Like I'd walk into the Polk's office and fall into open arms and peaceful words.

It'd be nice if it were true, but I wasn't easily fooled. Unlike the others under Zara's control, I wasn't a Code, or a successful Host. Like Roger, I slid under the radar.

Polk's office doors were opened when I turned down the hall. Two Hosts stood at the doors, assault rifles in their hands. They looked at me with their bright eyes and matching white suits, and grinned, while I paused. My handgun alone was no match for what they had. And they knew it, too, and laughed about it.

"Clara Burrows." The Host on the left said my name. He was shorter than the other, with light hair that fell around his shoulders and caramel skin. He grinned when we locked eyes. "We've been waiting for you."

"Have you?"

"We have." The Host on the right moved his hand away from his rifle to ruffle the curls on top of his head. "Took you long enough."

I sucked on my bottom lip as I looked at their suits. They both had medals on their shoulders, like the one Matthews had worn in our first attempt. "How'd you know I was coming?"

The second Host laughed, dropping his hand from his hair to grab the handle of his weapon. "Stupid questions," he said. "Did you forget we have eyes everywhere?"

"No," I said, but gulped as my eyes shifted between the two of them. "I'm sure you do. There's got to be cameras everywhere. Streetlights. Etcetera."

"No." The first Host shook his head. "Ours were more live than that."

Live.

I could see into the office behind them. The desk was overturned, as though someone looked for something; the scattered papers had multiplied. The monitors were all on, bright, with numerical code on them. I expected to see Zara on one of them, but couldn't—maybe I was too far? I knew she had to be there.

I lifted my gun. "That's awesome," I said, taking a step forward. "I think I know what you mean?"

A laugh came from behind me. I didn't turn, fighting with my fear to keep my composure. There was no way I'd lose sight of two men holding rifles.

"Do you?" The voice behind me chuckled. "It wasn't so clear before, now, was it?"

"Bessel."

I didn't turn to look at him, not that I needed to. He walked beside me and passed me, standing a few feet in front of me with his head held high. There wasn't a shimmer in his eye, and I checked; I expected to see it. Yet, he noticed and laughed, then smoothed out the wrinkles of his suit before lifting his fingers to his left eye.

"I take back all the things I'd ever said about you." He pinched the white space, slowly peeling off the lens that covered the entire eye. Like lifting a curtain, he exposed a light; blue like the others, bright and abnormal. "You are a smart girl."

My stomach flipped uncomfortably.

"Your team wasn't the only one with geniuses, you see." He flicked the contact into a plant at his side. "Your Erica was good, but not as good as mine. See, we hadn't planned on coming this far, but Miss Clara Burrows—the only human to slip through the cracks—paved the way for us. Douglas was in such dire need for help, how could we resist? It's easy to fake scars over devices that'd never been removed; cover eyes that are a bit unnatural. We responded to the call and viola—Douglas hadn't the slightest idea."

Bessel slid his hands over his suit before glancing back at the office's open doors. "And Zara—" he turned back at to wink at me, "—brightest Code I'd ever met."

I spread my feet wider, keeping my stance firm and able. In my hand, I gripped my gun; I couldn't drop it. It took a steady—breathe in, breathe out—focus to lift it and point. I aimed for his chest, then his arms, then his neck, but didn't fire. "I don't get it," I told him. "You've seen with your own eyes what we can do. Roger is alive and Erica can—"

"Oh, you mean Roger is a machine. A walking, talking, food eating cyborg. Please explain how he's alive."

I swallowed my nerves.

"He mimics life." Bessel slapped his chest. "We want life."

"He has a life," I muttered, lifting my gun higher and aimed at his head. "The machine gives you a body, and you could live."

Bessel chuckled before inching forward. "Does he? Did you ask him? Hm?" He pointed at his temple. "Do you know what goes on up there for him? For any of us? You say we can live, but how can you decide that for us?"

The two Hosts behind him readied themselves with their weapons. They pointed them at me, both eyes open, ready to fire. I swallowed the dry spit in my mouth and took a step back. "I know he feels. He thinks. He—"

"Oh, shit," he laughed. "He only shows you the outside. Look, I agree with one thing—Zara was wrong to take out Polk the way she did. He could've fixed that machine, make it capable of producing real cells, but you've got to see it from her point of view." He leaned forward, hand over his heart. "Can you imagine being forced to live in the head of someone who fucked you over? Hm?"

He grinned, but it turned into something evil; a face I'd never seen. "He forced that life upon her. And then one day decided he couldn't do it anymore. Guilt got to him. Him. Ha!" Bessel leaned back as he glanced back at the office. "Now look at him!"

The air went still as the gunfire below ceased. Silence settled over my ears. As I held my breath, I watched a hand creep out from those open doors and curve, grabbing the open frame with a firm grip. Fingers, dark and frail; skin grey and peeled. Polk emerged with a pull, the hand his. His skin red and decayed.

I stumbled back three steps.

"Ah." Bessel clapped his hands as he cheered. "There he is."

My eyes slid up Polk's face, up at the bullet wound on his head. The skin never healed; puss spilled out from its edges. His foot stepping out into the hall brought the scent of death with him and I felt sick. I held my breath. I wanted to fire my gun so bad, but I didn't know who to shoot—Bessel, or the body Zara continued to control even after it died?

"See, what they don't tell you in Science class is the electrons in your brain still run for a bit after you die. Still connects to parts of your body. That last sigh you give, that finger twitch—it's your brain's last effort at life. Zara's still in there, poor girl, moving that lump of skin. She needs a real body, like us."

My heart stopped. I lowered my gun. "It's been two months," I whispered. "That only lasts for a few minutes after death."

"Oh, it lasts." Bessel and the Hosts approached me as a group. "And she's done waiting."

Bessel moved faster than the two, a step-in front of them, and as I watched him, his words repeated in my head. She needs a real body, like us. As he raised one hand, it hit me—like the Hosts outside had said, all of us without receptors would be replaced. Taken over. Just like they'd originally intended.

"Come here!" Bessel lunged for me, but I moved to the side. A plant fell at my feet. "Don't fight me!"

"No!"

He came forward again, launching all his weight this time. I moved back far enough to force a gap between us, but his hand still reached for my leg—and grabbed it. The gun I had fell from my hands as I kicked him; it slid. Polk's dead hands grabbed it as it made its way over towards his door. I watched as he looked at it, head to one side, then the other; it took just a second for him to point it at me.

The Hosts with him followed.

"You can't!" I kicked Bessel again, but he pulled at my suit and tugged me down to him. My body was pinned beneath his as he forced my head to one side, exposing the scar above my receptor.

"It'll start with you. We won't delete you, girl, but we need this body. Later, maybe, we'll make all ya'll the machines. How's that sound?"

The world went white as I squeezed my eyes. His knees pinned my arms, so I couldn't fight back. With the weight of him on my chest, it hurt to breathe, to think. I wheezed as I felt the tears in my eyes.

Around me, I heard static. A woman's laughter.

And gunfire.

Bessel fell off me with a grunt and air was allowed to travel back in my lungs. I sucked in breaths as though I'd been dying; tears filled my eyes, wet and blurry. The Hosts fired their rifles, spreading an array of bullets through the hall. Yellow flashes fought with white light, and I sat up, hands digging into the cracks of the floor.

"If anyone's going to be deleted, it's you!"

Roger burst through the stairway door, through the bullet smoke, and pushed Bessel down on the floor. The larger man's head crashed into the pot that'd fallen; the sound echoed after the bullets.

Looking up, I struggled to stand as Roger then tackled the two Hosts. With his arms, he grabbed both by their necks and slammed them down. Their heads hit the ground as hard as Bessel's. With his knees still on top of them, he looked at Polk, who's slow movements halted just a few feet from the doors. The handgun in his hand aimed at Roger's head.

"Clara." Roger said my name through gritted teeth.

He didn't have to say a command or instruct me, but I heard him. I moved. Maybe it was a glitch, or a miracle, but without thinking, I moved forward and pushed myself off Roger's shoulders. With his weight, I lunged at Polk. My shoulders hit his chest; the gun fell out of his hands. Before he could move, I dove down and grabbed it.

"Don't," I said, pointing the gun at his head. "I'll shoot."

Polk looked at me with dead eyes as Roger walked past me, through the office doors; he shot Polk without a passing glance. The grunt that left him made me shiver.

Roger stopped at the desk and looked at the screens that suddenly fizzled out of clarity. I thought I saw Zara's face as I stepped in behind him.

"Don't you know what it's like to live in someone's head? Someone who didn't love you?" Zara's voice echoed. "Didn't you hear him ask you that?"

It took a minute, but the screens cleared, one after the other. Zara appeared on her center screen, like always; queen of the room. I narrowed my eyes as I looked at her, but when she growled at me, I ignored her and went through the papers scattered across the floor. My task called to me as the computers quietly beeped.

"Albertson was the same. Stuck in the head of someone who opposed his views. He understood me."

She called him by his real name, not Bessel at all.

"You're selfish," I said as I gave up on the papers and went to the computers instead. "You're killing everyone to satisfy your own revenge "

"No!" Her voice reverberated through the speakers on her screen. "I'm satisfying everyone's revenge!"

I turned around as I heard Roger yell. Polk had grabbed him, pulled him back; his hands grabbed Roger's throat. With all the strength the dead man had, he pressed into the space behind Roger's ears. I almost ran back to him, but Roger's flickering eyes told me not to.

"We all wanted to live. To be free. I didn't ask to be here. I wanted a happy life, but Hank... Hank's incapable of love. That's why he decided to delete me after trapping me here. Just like the Province did with everyone else."

I jumped from computer to computer—no keyboard, no mouse, not even a wireless one. I tapped my fingers on each of the screens, but the digital keyboards and commands were locked and secured. Frustration set in—how could I delete the files if I couldn't get into them?

"But I couldn't be deleted!"

I cringed at the sound of her voice. It was shrill, angry, sad—every sound of it hit my ears. Spinning in a circle, I scanned the room. Computer after computer, screen after screen. None had the attachments to work them.

"Did you know that half of our Codes aren't even our soldiers? Enemies, Clara, and they are more than willing to help me if it sets them free."

"The Province is one nation; there are no enemies." I rushed over to the desk, dropped by its side, and flipped through the papers I'd given up on. Notes, after notes; all handwritten, scribbled in fear. Each detailed how Zara would control everything if she wasn't deleted. Did Polk write these?

"NO!"

A bullet fired by the door and I jumped at the sound. Roger had pinned his handgun under Polk's chin and pulled the trigger; blood and skin dotted on his face. The bullet ripped through his skull, and sparks erupted behind his ear. The receptor he had was unsavable; his body limp, cold.

Zara screamed out in agony. "What have you done!" Her face was on every monitor in the room.

Roger stood and wiped the blood down his suit. I couldn't help but think her words as he walked towards me and dropped the gun at his feet. But one look in his eyes, I knew it was necessary. Polk had been dead for far too long. What was left of the brain needed to die.

"Erase the files," Roger said, searching the room.

I shook my head, looking down at the pages. "I can't." I looked back at Zara's frantic face as she cut in and out with static. "All the computers are locked."

"I'll kill you!" Zara's voice was distorted. Her image flashed red, then white, zigzagging in every direction. The gunfire that'd quietly erupted out within the furthest halls stopped for a moment, before starting again. I locked eyes with Roger as he pursed his lips. The veins around his eyes were blue.

"Move," he ordered, shifting me to the right. He looked at the notes, lifting a few sheets in his hands. He read over them faster than I did and looked back at the monitors to watch Zara's distorted face.

"She's here," he said. "We need to get rid of her."

"I know that." I spun in another circle, sweat sprouting on my forehead. The gunshots on the lower levels were closer. "But where? I can't find her."

"Here." He walked over to the computers I couldn't access. The center computer had been the one with the file to the Province's data. Roger tapped its screen, bringing up the red security symbol that denied access. With a frown, he looked down at his hands.

"What is it?" I asked as I looked back out into the hall. There were shouts, orders—I couldn't make out the words, but I knew what they were. They were coming; Zara had ordered them to come.

I'll kill you.

"I can't access anything," he muttered, stretching his fingers out wide. He looked up at the monitors, at Zara's screaming face. "I thought this would be easier."

"What do you mean?" I stood next to him and touched the lines on his neck. His skin felt hot, covered in sweat. Underneath his suit, I could make out fresh blood and cuts; the wounds from the blast were still open and blood still dripped down his arm. "What's wrong with you?"

Roger smiled for a second. His warm hand cupped the side of my face as the light dimmed from his eyes. The code faded into a normal blue and the glow slowly vanished. He coughed, and when he did, the blue spread under his skin. It was no longer bright, but dark, like an old bruise. "Matthews should be here any second. Meet him out in the hall, get back to the base. I got this."

I stepped back and away from his touch. "W-What? No!" Immediately, I searched the room. I wouldn't let him do this on his own.

I went to every computer, pulling and grabbing the drawers and shelves beneath them. My fingers slammed against the screens to bring up their security locks. I hit every number, every code I could think of, but nothing happened. I regretted never deleting the files in the beginning—then, I regretted my regret. Not deleting the files gave Roger life. Gave everyone a chance.

I looked back at him as the doors out in the hall burst open and yells filled the air. Roger faced the screens, looking up at the images that flooded them. The monitors synced with Provincial Hall's security system. Parts flashed with Zara's face; the rest showed the Hosts that ran up the building's front steps. Out in the street, I could see the Peace members together, readying for war. Weapons were drawn and silent orders were given.

My heart fell into the pit of my stomach.

"Clara!" Behind me, Matthews called my name. I turned and saw him as he fired his gun at a Host, taking out the woman's knee. She crashed to the floor as he ran past her, eyes focused on me.

He was covered in blood, but alive. I almost smiled. "Matthews!"

"Clara!"

I reached out for him, but felt my body pushed forward and out the door. Stumbling into the hall, I landed on my hands and knees. Matthews reached down and grabbed me when he reached the doors. I pulled myself from his arms.

"No... Roger!" I spun and pressed my hands against the glass to Polk's office. Matthews kept me still as I attempted to tug at the doors, but they wouldn't open. Roger held them shut; he'd pushed me out of them.

"What are you doing?"

Roger looked past me and at Matthews. He nodded behind us, at the gun fire that didn't stop. "Get her out of here. Dome A still has the backup. If there's any data lost, you can retrieve it there."

"Got it," Matthews muttered as he tugged at my suit.

"No!" I pulled away from him. "What are you doing? Let me back inside!"

"Can't do that, Doll," Roger said with a weak smile on his face. "I shouldn't have let you get this far, anyway."

"But you needed me!" I knew my heart had fallen minutes before, but I felt it in my legs. Hard pumps pushed blood into my thighs and down into my feet, which kept me up and steady. My hands, on the other hand, trembled like leaves falling off trees. "We said we'd do this together."

"Never said that." Behind Roger, the monitors turned white. Zara's voice cut in and out, but I couldn't make out what she said.

But Roger—I heard him. I heard the smile the graced his face. I heard his heart beat in my ears. His palms pressed against the small, square windows, smearing the glass with dirt and blood. "I said I needed you."

"I'm here!" I shouted. "I'm here with you!"

"I know." He dropped his head. "Thank you."

'This isn't happening,' I thought as I tugged at the door. Neither side opened, no matter how hard I pulled.

Matthews arms wrapped around my waist. "He isn't coming out," he said near my ear as he looked behind us. "He's going to destroy the systems."

The tears rimmed my eyes and fell before I could blink. "No, he isn't," I whispered, barely audible in the echoes of gunfire.

"He is." Matthews pulled me away from the door. "He ordered me to get you. We've got to go."

Roger never stopped looking at me.

"Wait..." I tried to pull at Matthews' hands as I cried. "Wait... Roger... just hear me. Listen to me."

"I am." Roger stepped away from the glass as he closed his eyes. "I hear you. I... I love you, too."

"Wait, please!" Still, I tried to stop him, but he simply smiled at me. With one push against the glass, he let his hands slide away from the door. I watched as he went back to the computers and ripped them clean off their wires. Their screens crashed on the floor.

"Roger!"

He didn't look at me. Sparks hit the air as he ripped through the towers, breaking the skin on his fingers as he did. The blue bruises on his arms spread up his neck, onto his face; his eyes went black as he yelled in pain.

"He's dying." Matthews pulled at me again. "We've got to go."

"No, he isn't!" I cried. "He's alive!"

"The nanos are gone. He tapped out of the system." Matthews spun me around, forcing me to look at him. Behind him, I saw the hall full of Peace members and Hosts; they fired their guns at each other, yelled at each other. "He's going to blow up the building. Delete 'em all. Ya hear me?"

"He can't," I breathed.

I looked back at the doors, through the windows; a fire had started around him. He exposed the walls within the office and located the small computer screen built into the steel. It was identical to the ones within the Dome's lowest levels; Zara's hub.

"He's saving us, Clara. Let's get the hell out of here!"

I choked on my cry and remembered what he told me back at the base: If I told you I loved you, would you stop looking for it?

'No,' I thought as I squeezed my eyes, 'I won't. I won't stop looking for you.'

When I opened my eyes, I saw his. He looked at me with the void he'd lived in for so long. His hand hovered over Zara's home, his fingers tapping at the thin screen. I pushed at Matthews with my last bit of strength; I slammed my hands against the door. "You said you'd never leave me!" I shouted, remembering that night at the store. I pounded my fist so hard on the glass, it cracked. "You promised!"

His lips moved, but no voice left him. I didn't need to hear it; I knew what he said. I read it with each shape his lips made: You promised to set me free.

His fist drove through the wall as the fire reached Polk's wooden desk. Matthews pulled me away as the smoke clouded the windows and blocked my view. All I heard was his screams, blending evenly with that of Zara's. The sound mixed with my own as Matthews draped me onto his shoulder. He rushed us to the right, pulling open a door that led to the roof. His foot stepped out into the stairwell, as the red alarms flashed in the hall, and I cried out at the top of my lungs, "Roger!"

The second I sucked in a breath to finish his name the world stood still; the air went dry. Smoke drifted out from the lab in thin streams over the floor. My eyes followed the grey stream over to the feet that no longer moved. Peace members paused, holding their guns tight.

The Hosts fell onto their knees, onto their backs, and flat on the floor.