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  Andrew puffs out his cheeks in a frustrated breath. “It doesn't matter what happened. This traitor was one of us,” he points an accusatory finger at Clay, “and now he's inciting a riot against Gods’ people! We should execute them all.”

  Clay narrows his eyes, staring at Andrew. “I never been one of you.” In a lightning-quick movement Clay’s arm slips out of his captor's grip and grabs for the gun in Andrew’s hand. The two men fumble for the black steel, hands scrambling, teeth gritted, until the guard yanks Clay’s arm back. Andrew holds up his gun triumphantly, smiling giddily like a child winning a toy. Then he pulls the pistol back and smashes it into Clay’s face.

  “No!” I yell.

  Clay staggers, a bright line of blood spreading across his cheek.

  “Stop!” Mage says, stepping up to Andrew, glaring at him with her hands on her hips.

  Andrew leans down until his goggles are only inches from her delicate face. “Your daddy isn’t here to step in on your behalf, you meddling little magpie.” He places a hand on her shoulder and begins squeezing.

  “Leave her alone.” It's a gravelly voice from the back. Lavan limps into the light.

  His eyes look a little clearer, but his hair is a disheveled mess and the rancid crust of vomit on his shirt doesn’t help his appearance.

  Andrew places both hands on his hips and looks Lavan up and down. “Thought you were dead.”

  “You tried to kill me.” He lifts bloodshot eyes. “Wanted to make sure I didn't tell.”

  A flicker of emotion crosses Andrew's face. Is it fear? Surprise? Then his awful sneer returns. “You're drunk out of your head. You have nothing to tell them.”

  Lavan runs a hand through his messy hair in a vain attempt to straighten it. He burps once and then straightens his face again. “Don't need to tell 'em nothing. I can show 'em.”

  “Show us what?” One of the Brotherhood guards steps forward, the pistol clutched tightly in his fist. He's tall, with hairy arms and a broad chest. He flicks a confused glance at Andrew and then turns back to Lavan. “Show us what, Lavan?”

  Lavan's bruised face tightens. “I can show you the women Andrew was keeping for the Breeders.”

  “The women?” Another guard steps out of the crowd. He has a cut on his cheek and red creases where his gas mask would've sat. He points a finger at Lavan. “What are women gonna prove? We have our women here.”

  Andrew throws his hands in the air. “He’s crazy.”

  Lavan flicks some dried vomit off his shirt and clears his throat. “I can prove Andrew made a deal to sell all the women to the Breeders. That he planned all this long before today.”

  There's a gasp from the crowd. The women in the back shoot worried glances at their men. An older girl curls into her mother's arms.

  Yusuf steps forward, his chubby face trembling with rage. “Is it true, Andrew?” He wipes tears away with a thick finger. “I want answers.” He looks around the room at the Brotherhood. “Don't you?”

  The men behind Andrew shift uncomfortably. A few let their guns sag.

  Andrew shakes his head, a look of panic creeping into his features. “It was the Messiah’s plan.” He speaks rapidly, waving his arms. “You heard him. He wanted to go home.”

  “If the Breeders were coming, why wouldn't he have told us before he died?” I say, thinking about him reaching for Clay’s gun, the explosion of blood. “Unless he never knew they were coming.” I look over at Mage who's nodding slowly. I turn back to the crowd. “The Messiah was afraid of the plagues. He saw the sandstorm as a sign that end times were coming. I think he gave himself to appease the Gods. He knew something bad was going to happen. He just didn't know it would come from his own people.”

  All eyes turn to Andrew. He seems to shrink beneath our stares. “That's not true!”

  Lavan clears his throat, his eyes on the concrete. “Most of the Brotherhood made a deal. Their families would be spared if they kept everyone in.”

  “It was that or death!” a man in the back with a long black ponytail and sideburns blurts. When we turn to look at him, he drops his head in shame. “Couldn't let my children die.”

  Prema grits her teeth. “So, you'd kill the rest of us?”

  “You were willing,” the man with the cut on his cheek says to Prema.

  Yusuf puffs out his chest in rage. “Not if I knew it was all a lie!”

  “What about your sons?” I ask, looking around.

  A few of the men shake their heads. One man steps up, sorrow lining his pale, beardless face. “I was told he ran when the sprinklers came on.”

  Another steps up, veins pulsing in his thick arms. “Andrew said no one could find him.” He whirls on Andrew, anger flaring in his eyes. “Where's my boy?”

  The men look at each other, anger building in their faces. Voices rise until I'm sure they'll all turn on him.

  Andrew holds a gun into the air and fires. A woman screams. The people's new leader lowers the smoking gun, smiling like a snake. “Brothers, we don't have time to entertain lies from dusts and drunkards. Lock them up.” He nods his men forward.

  The Brotherhood shuffles uncomfortably, glancing from face to face. A man holding a cloth to his bloody head steps forward. “I want to see Lavan’s proof.”

  A few others nod.

  Andrew points wildly at the Messiah’s necklace. “You don’t need proof! I’m the word of the Gods. You do what I say.”

  The men of Brotherhood shake their heads. “You aren’t the Messiah,” one says. “I want proof,” says another. Others nod in agreement.

  Andrew clenches his fists, his face contorting. “He has no proof!” His voice is high-pitched, childish like a toddler in a tantrum.

  Lavan straightens his posture. “I do.”

  “Where?” Andrew asks, whirling on him. His fists are clenched, the gun trembling in one hand. Will he shoot Lavan right here? What will the men do if he does?

  “Inside,” Lavan says, nodding back toward where we came. “We have to go back in the Citadel. We have to find the Forgotten.”

  Chapter 27

  We walk back in the twilight, all eyes alert. Andrew, Lavan, and six other guards with guns circle Clay, Mama, Ethan, and I. Much of me wonders why Andrew insisted in bringing my whole family into this. The only reason that makes sense is that he'll take us back inside and kill us all. And the Brotherhood is still mostly following Andrew’s orders because they don’t know who to trust. I look over at Lavan's face as he shuffles a little drunkenly beside me. How sure is he about this evidence? Won’t the Forgotten all be dead? And, in the end, will it matter?

  Beside me, Mama staggers to one knee in the sand, her hands circling her belly. I drop down beside her.

  “You have to let her rest,” I say, looking up at Andrew. “Her pregnancy is making her weak.”

  “Get her up,” he says, annoyance in his voice. The Brotherhood hasn't stripped him of his pistol, which bothers me. I look at the gun at his hip and his eyes follow mine there. He shoves me forward.

  “Mama,” I wrap my arms around her, “you can do this. Just a little longer.”

  Sweat trails down her forehead. “Take care of them,” she whispers. “Take care of your brother.”

  My heartbeat stutters at her words. “You'll take care of him.” Tears well in my eyes. I slip my arm around her back and let her lean on me. “We stay together,” I whisper. She says nothing.

  The mall doors we pried open are still gaping wide. The dark hallway looks like an endless black tunnel and still smells like acid. Every atom in my body fights going back in there.

  “This is ridiculous,” Andrew says, coming to a stop just before the entrance. “We don't need to listen to this drunkard. Why go back into this death trap for no reason?”

  Lavan straightens his shirt. “They want proof. The proof is inside.”

  Andrew's small mouth tightens in a look of disgust. “It was foreseen. Don't you believe anymore?”

  Lavan's hand strays to the
gun one of the Brothers gave him. “We go forward or the Brotherhood strips you of your title.” His eyes land on the Messiah's necklace resting on Andrew's collarbone.

  “Then wait a goddamned minute.” He reaches inside his pants' pocket. Lavan raises his pistol, but Andrew pulls out a long, slender device with a large antenna and shows it to him.

  “What's that?” the guard with the cut on his head asks. He snatches the thing from Andrew. “How do we know it's not a bomb?”

  Andrew rolls his eyes. “Why would I go to all this trouble just to blow us up? We can't go in there with acid in the air. This turns on the ventilation system remotely.”

  The guards exchange glances. Finally, the one holding it presses the button. We all cringe.

  Deep inside the mall, motors whir on and fans begin chugging. Air breezes out of the open doorway, carrying with it the smell of acid. When the smell hits my nose, my body recoils. I don't want to go back in there. The group steps away and waits while the system cleans the air.

  When the air smells clear, Lavan disappears through the open door and into darkness. Lavan leads with a certainty that makes me believe he knows where he's going. Part of me wonders if he's bluffing, but then why would he risk the Brotherhood turning on him if he didn't have proof? Still, what will the Forgotten tell us that would implicate Andrew?

  We're shoved in after him, then Ethan and Clay. As the Brotherhood fills in behind us, my eyes adjust to the dark. The sprinklers are off and so is most of the power. The air is pretty foul, but doesn't feel as corrosive. We draw our shirts up over our faces just the same. With the smell of chemical fading, the rancid stink of death begins to eek out of the corners. Corners where friends and family lie dead. If Lavan can prove that Andrew is responsible and did it for his own selfish reason, they'll turn on him faster than a scorpion on its prey.

  We see no survivors in the desiccated hallways. A few bodies fester in acid puddles, red sores and flayed skin marking their deaths. The guards' drop their eyes as shame floods their faces. Some look shocked at the horror. Good. They should be.

  Lavan leads us back toward the hole and the mood in the group shifts. Guards' hands itch toward their guns. Will any mutants be alive?

  “This is far enough!” Andrew says, skidding to a stop a few feet from the hole. “Whatever you're playing at, Lavan, I suggest we get on with it.” He adjusts his goggles and puts on a bored expression. “Get to some real business.”

  “This is real business,” Lavan says through swollen lips. He points at the dark crack in the earth. “The evidence is down there.”

  Andrew peers into the dark. “What're you talking about? There's nothing down there but muties and bats.”

  “Muties!” Lavan shouts. “The fact that they exist proves you disobeyed the Messiah. He told you to put those women out and instead you stuck 'em in a hole underground to live a horrible life. You kept the women because you were planning a deal with The Breeders all along. Except they got sick from the water and weren’t fertile anymore. So you needed more women.” He turns to the Brotherhood. “Our women. That’s why he saved them and no one else. He’s going to hand them over to The Breeders.”

  Andrew crosses his arms over his chest, making the Messiah's pendant jitter. “That's not hard facts and you know it. He knows it,” he says, turning to his men.

  The Brotherhood look between Lavan and Andrew. “You're gonna have to do better than that,” the guard with the cut on his head says, hefting the rifle onto his shoulder. “Is that all you have?”

  “No. The Forgotten can tell you themselves. Once I convinced them to stop attacking me, one told me of Andrew’s plan. How he tricked them into taking sanctuary in the hole and staying quiet instead of being put out. He took them food, promised them safety, but when he found out the water poisoned their insides, he abandoned them. They were no good to the Docs in Albuquerque, so why care? By then they were too weak to fight back”. He looks around the dark area. “We just have to find the one I talked to. She’ll tell you.”

  He's so convincing it has to be true. I look around at the men, hoping. But then, the Forgotten are likely all dead. What if we can’t find one? And even if we do, will it be enough to convince the Brotherhood Lavan is telling the truth? Will they even care?

  The guard with the big hairy arms turns to Andrew. “Is it true?”

  Andrew's face is pale. He shakes his head. “Course not. All this was the Messiah's plan. He told me so himself.” Andrew gives a weak smile. Suddenly he aims his pistol wildly, somehow centering on Ethan’s head. All the men draw guns, but Andrew’s already pulling my brother roughly into a bear hug. Ethan claws at Andrew's arms, his dark hair flying. But Andrew's grip is fierce. He drags Ethan with him toward the hole and uses him as a human body shield.

  My vision narrows to a pinhole as I struggle forward, panic lighting up my body. “Stop!” I scream. “Let him go!”

  “Ethan!” Mama cries.

  I lurch forward, but Clay grabs my arm. “Don't,” he snaps. “He'll throw him over.”

  The guards raise their guns, unsure of where to aim.

  “Let him go,” Lavan says. “We can work this out.”

  Andrew shakes his head, his goggles making his eyes bug crazily out of his head. He tugs Ethan back another step. My vision strays to the deep, dark drop and my heart somersaults. No one would survive that fall.

  Andrew throws crazy looks around the crowd, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. “It was for our own good.” His voice is uneven, frantic. He searches his guards' faces for sympathy. “We were being poisoned. We didn't have enough food to last the rest of the year, but did he care? No!” He gnashes his rotten teeth together angrily. “The Messiah never listened to me! No one would listen to me. We were all going to die!” His voice reverberates around the concrete.

  I take a step forward. “We understand.” Ethan's eyes meet mine. Afraid.

  “Shut up, dust!” Andrew says, his forearm tightening around my brother's neck. “It's your fault we're in this situation. Your fault the Breeders started paying attention to us. They told the Messiah to pick you up. That you had the Sight. And he believed them! He always believed his Gods would save him, that fool. I took one look at you and knew you were nothing special.”

  Clay inhales sharply. Cold prickles crawl up my arms. “The Breeders told him to pick us up? Why?”

  Andrew grits his teeth. “You think I care? All I know is you were five extra mouths to feed. I knew the hospital freaks were using us. The Messiah’s been benefiting from their technology and their insights for years. They taught him how to hook up the power. They gave him his precious prophecies that made him seem connected to the Gods. He’s been communicating with them through a radio for years. Taking with no intention of paying back. But they were coming. He wanted mass suicide. I struck a deal to save some of us.”

  He looks at his men, a sadness settling on his face. The wildness drops out of his voice until he's pleading with his men. “I did it for you. So we could have a chance. So some of the women and children could have a chance. They’ll take us in as guards. Otherwise, when they come here, they’ll slaughter us all.”

  I shake my head. “What they’ll do in that hospital is not a chance you should take.”

  Lavan's swollen face tightens. “You didn’t do this for us.” He shakes his head sadly. “You hated the Messiah. You thought he was an ignorant fool. You were giddy when he died.” He drops his head. “The Gods will surely punish us now…”

  Andrew blinks, crocodile tears welling in his eyes. “It was the only way. Otherwise everyone would die like the muties.”

  “Like usss?” A garbled voice rolls out of the dark. Slowly a figure lurches into view. The acid has eaten away her face, exposing raw muscle and sinew. Her lips are peeled back over what’s left of her teeth and her nose and ears have shriveled to blistered nubs. She looks like a walking corpse. How’s she’s still standing I don’t know. Maybe all those months of living underground.
Maybe the contaminated water makes her stronger just like it does the Brotherhood.

  The speaker, set to kill, draws a ragged, wet breath and zeroes in on Andrew.

  “Shoot her!” Andrew squeals, ducking down behind Ethan. His feet shuffle within inches of the cliff’s edge. Ethan's eyes go wide. He begins clawing at Andrew's arm at his neck.

  “Let him go!” I shout, stepping as close as I dare. Mama grips my arm. I can hear her panicked gasps.

  Beside me, Clay's eyes are blazing. “Don’t be a coward, Andrew. Let Ethan go.”

  Andrew’s arm is like a steel bar on Ethan's neck. He backs another step toward the cliff's edge. Gravel skids down the side and cascades to the bottom with a sickening ping. “I’ll toss him in! I’ll do it!”

  Ethan's mouth drops open in terror. I reach out, my heart slamming in my chest. Ethan's only a few feet away and yet the distance seems like miles. “Please! He’s just a kid!”

  The speaker shuffles forward, lurching and gasping. She seems not to hear anything but the rage in her heart. She stumbles on, hell-bent on the destruction of the man who ruined her.

  “Shoot her!” Andrew screams, pulling back from the speaker. He takes another step back. More stones tumble down the crevasse. “Shoot her now or the boy goes over!”

  The speaker grabs for Andrew. Lavan raises his rifle. I focus on Ethan, his face searching mine for help, a rescue. I grip my face, unable to move. I have to save him. How?

  Movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. Another mutie? A guard? Mama tears past me, running at a speed I wouldn't have thought possible.

  It becomes suddenly clear what she’s going to do. “Mama, no!” I reach out to stop her.

  All those times she wished she could be the one saving us instead of us saving her.

  She slips past my outstretched hand, running, her clothes fluttering, her black hair streaming like a glossy ribbon.

  She can’t. She can’t.

  I take a step after her.

  It all happens in slow motion. Mama hits Andrew from the side, jarring him. Surprised, Andrew stumbles and his grip on Ethan loosens. Ethan topples forward, his dark hair falling into his face. Mama reaches for him. For a moment I think she'll embrace him, but instead she shoves him back toward us, away from Andrew, away from the hole. He stumbles and skids onto the concrete. She smiles.