Two days pass of the same routine—wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, and repeat. I lose track of time as I work. With the constant hum of activity around the Alma, I never get bored, so I don't need to check the time or count down the hours until break. I stop whenever I want. Or really whenever my hands need a break.

Yet, no matter how busy I am, a pinprick reminder sticks in the back of my brain. Every day that passes puts us one day closer to our deadline. I wait for Ollie to come and send me back home, but she doesn't. Instead, I see less and less of her. Her entire crew seems to have disappeared.

When they do resurface, black circles outline Ollie's eyes. She fidgets constantly with her hair, and her lips are raw from being chewed on. Mandy will drop by occasionally to check on me, but her conversation is always short. She hurries back to their corner where the yelling seems permanent nowadays.

The stress leads to me chewing my nails down to the bed. Once their bleeding, the soap irritates them further. In the end, my fingers are red, tender, and hot to the touch.

Isaac and I see less and less of each other. His strengths lie in working with the construction crew, lifting and pushing and repairing. The other men and women who work with him take up his time until late at night. We barely get a good night in before both of us collapse.

Lunchtime rolls around on our third day at the Alma. Because of my hands, I sit patching the seam of a pair of jeans. I'm a decent seamstress, but it's slow work for me. It's a beautiful day outside; why am I not out there?

At that, I fold the jeans up and sit them down on a nearby table. I tuck the needle and thread inside one of the pockets so I won't lose it. Turning on my heel, I head across the building to find Isaac.

"Wanna take a break and get some fresh air?" I ask once I find him. He looks up from the shelf he's repairing and smiles.

"Sure."

We slip out the front door and climb the hill that lines the right side of the parking lot. There's a few scraggly-looking trees there, but only one provides a decent amount of shade. Isaac and I sit in the grass— me all spread out flat on my back and him sitting Indian-style with his sketchbook in his lap.

I can't get over how pretty this valley is. Even while laying down, the twin mountains are in perfect view on either side of me. The reds, oranges, and yellows of the trees that blanket their surface blend seamlessly into a collage of autumn. They contrast perfectly with the cloudless blue sky. In the shade, it's warm, but a lazy breeze gives us a break from the heat.

I consider asking Isaac about the night in the basement. Why did he do what he did? Does he regret it? Have his fears lessened? I don't want to upset him, though. Parts of that night still give me shivers. Maybe it's better not to bring it up.

Isaac looks up suddenly from his work. "Did you say something?"

I can't help but laugh. "Why is everyone always asking me that? Are you all deaf?"

"Just thought I heard something." Isaac smirks, and with a shrug, he goes back to work.

That's when I notice he has his earplugs in. The orange foam melts into the shape of his ear and looks like a wad of chewed gum. I push myself up and glance over his shoulder to see what he's drawing. Turns out it's a landscape. Ever since he found some colored pencils, his art's been getting better and better. I'm jealous that he can block it all out like that; I can't escape the chaos in my head.

What weighs the heaviest in my mind is my father's name scribbled across that thin black line. I've spent every free moment trying to come up with some reason why he would create the virus. Yet it all seems crazy. Did they have some leverage on him? Maybe they held him at gunpoint and made him, or maybe they hypnotized him. Or maybe Ashford drugged him. Honestly, the best idea I've been able to come up was that it was an unfortunate accident. Either way, it doesn't make sense.

I turn my head away from Isaac and look out at the mountains. A curving highway cuts through the one to my right. The road has some strange white barrier that runs down the middle. As I'm inspecting the rails, two trucks appear at the top of the mountain. They look like specks crawling down the gray pavement.

"Isaac." I grab his shoulder to get his attention. "Trucks."

He looks around for a moment in shock. "What are you—" Then, he sees them. As they get closer, the olive and green is impossible to miss.

Isaac throws his stuff back into his bag, grabs my hand, and jerks me back inside the Alma. Ollie stands at the far edge of the sleeping area, helping a few people move a shelf.

"Ollie, you need to see this," Isaac says breathlessly. She holds up a finger in his direction. He taps a foot impatiently. The panic builds in me like a geyser. With every passing second, the urge to scream at her rises closer to my lips.

Hartley found me. He's either coming to kill me or take me back to the compound. Either way, I can't go. Now that I've witnessed what freedom feels like, I want nothing else. Those walls are a prison; I don't want to be caged.

"Ollie!" My voice spews out of me in a loud rush. "This is important!"

She turns around then, scowling. "Don't yell at me, Jaelyn Price. Can't you see I'm busy?" Her face softens after she gives the two of us a once-over. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

My mouth opens and closes for a minute. Do I scream out the word 'truck' and let panic ensue? Do I jerk her by the arm outside? Fear has overtaken the rational side of my brain. I can't think properly.

Thankfully, Isaac speaks up for me. "You need to come outside." When she hesitates, he adds, "Now."

She sighs, tells the people to keep working, and follows us outside. After rolling her sleeves up, she shields her eyes from the sun with a hand and squints into the distance.

"Compound 4," she whispers in shock. "Maybe they're just doing a sweep of the town. They can't possibly know we're here, or they would have come after us years ago." She backs towards the doors where Stephen has appeared. "We need to hide this out. Stephen call everyone in and lock us down."

Once inside, Stephen draws a whistle out of his pocket and lays into it. The screeching stops everyone in their tracks.

"Gather everyone up in the sleeping area," he says. "Quickly. Ollie's got an announcement."

Bodies scatter. Together, Isaac and Stephen pull the door shut and use different shelves and crates to barricade it. I chew on my lip and stay out of their way. Quickly, people start filling the sleeping area up once more.

"Everyone here?" Ollie asks. Heads bob up and down in response. "Alright. We're going on lockdown for the time being. Some Compound 4 trucks are passing through the area. If they find out where we are, there's no telling what they'll do to us. Stay still and quiet. More than likely, they'll just drive by, but better safe than sorry."

She doesn't mention that the truck is looking for us, but several heads turn our way. They have to know. Yet, no one speaks up. No one suggests kicking us out on the curb, and I'm thankful for that. Ollie starts and finishes her announcement calmly, an emotion that I have no concept of right now. All I can think about is being dragged away in handcuffs. Or shot on the spot.

The second option sounds more likely.

Isaac and I stand behind Stephen in front of the rest of the Alma's residents. The ground vibrates as the trucks rumble into the parking lot. Isaac pulls me close to him. Light shines through the crack between the door and floor. Large shapes pass by, followed by smaller, human sized shadows. I lose count of all the feet that line the crack. One pair stands out above the rest, though— black, polished dress shoes. They point slightly at the end. I recognize those shoes instantly.

Hartley.

I look up to show Isaac, but by the look on his face, he's already seen. The muscles in his jaw clench, and his hand around my shoulder draws me even closer. He doesn't look scared or worried. Isaac just looks... determined. How can he not be terrified?

"We know you're in there, Jaelyn." The voice from outside is cold and greasy. It matches the shoes. President Hartley found me.

"And I know you have Montez in there with you." Several people glance our way, but Ollie inches closer towards us. "We're not here to take you back. We would prefer you never come back, actually." He begins to walk back and forth. "You see, we also know that the great Amanda Price is in there with you, and it's come to our attention that she stole something from our headquarters."

I look over my shoulder at Mandy. She stands still with Belle pressed up against her side. Her fist clenches angrily at her side. The glare is set so deep in her face that it presses her eyebrows together and puckers her lips. I've never seen someone look so enraged.

"So, by now, you must know what's coming, and we absolutely can not have you coming back and ruining the surprise for everyone else. I think you're a trustworthy person, Jaelyn; I've known your father for many, many years. He's never once failed me. If you come out and promise me that you won't get in our way, my men and I will leave you alone."

Hartley goes quiet, and I look at Ollie and I panic. She shakes her head and presses a finger against her lips. Justin taps her shoulder and motions to Clare. She's signing quickly to the two of them, but she turns towards me at the last minute and signs something.

"Clare thinks he's trying to trick you," Justin whispers to me. "If you go out there, he'll kill you and then come for us. You can't trust him."

I nod and cling to Isaac. I'm afraid of what Hartley will do if we ignore him.

"No?" he calls. "You don't want to do this the civil way? I never thought you to be so selfish." He sighs. "Oh well. I guess you've chosen option B, then."

The shapes on the ground shift, and heavy boots thud in unison across the parking lot.

"I brought sixteen armed guards with me today. Each of them holds a small explosive. I think you can put two and two together from here." He turns to leave, his shoes clicking against the asphalt. "Keep in mind, Jaelyn, that you're responsible for whatever happens after this point. Just like you were for the death of that poor little girl. You couldn't save her, and I highly doubt you can save these people either."

A small sob breaks out from the silence, and I look back at Mandy and Belle. Mandy clamps a hand over Belle's mouth, but the girls already shrinking into the floor, sobbing.

Hartley is gone. The trucks aren't though. The shadows of the guards spread out and the sound of them leaving fills the air. Suddenly everything goes quiet. We look around at each other, holding our breaths.

All that can be heard is a soft ticking. Isaac's fingers tap against my arm. Explosives. Hartley said they had explosives.

"Bombs," I say to Ollie beside me. "They planted bombs."

She whirls around to face everyone else. "Get out! They're going to blow us up!"