When we walk in, Matt peels his eyes away from the window to look at me. The rest of his features are indifferent, but I can see wreckage in his eyes. Despite his behavior the last time I saw him, I want to run over and try my best to save him. He looks away before I finish the thought.

Mrs. McKean is stirring tea in a paper cup; Mr. McKean is pacing. I wonder who’s with Audrey until Mr. McKean explains to Mason that visiting hours are over for the afternoon.

“That’s too bad,” Mason says. He glances over at me before saying in a hushed tone, “When would be a good time for us to come back? Daisy would like to see Audrey.”

Mr. McKean looks at me sadly. He gives me a weak smile, then deals a blow to the gut. “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he says to Mason. “Only immediate family is allowed in the ICU.”

“I see,” Mason says in his businesslike manner. Irrationally, I wonder if Mason called ahead and asked Mr. McKean to lie, but in my heart I know that Mason would never do that. He only brought up not saying goodbye in the car to protect me.

Feeling helpless, I trudge to a seat stationed against the wall farthest away from Matt and flop into it.

The men speak in hushed tones for what feels like an extremely long time. I try not to listen as Mason gently offers to help in any way he can. He even goes so far as to offer counseling to Matt, which irritates me even though I know he’s simply trying to maintain cover. I bite my thumbnail. Matt stares out the window. The men shake hands. Mrs. McKean stares at her tea. Mason walks over to me.

“I’ll take you back to the house.”

“That’s it?” I ask.

“That’s it.”

Exhausted and hating hospital policy, the second I walk inside our house, I go to my room and climb under the covers. Not long after that, Mason appears. He sits down at the end of my bed and lightly touches my foot through the comforter. Then he puts his hands in his lap.

“Daisy, would you like to go back to Seattle and spend a few more days with Megan?”

“I want to stay here, just in case they change their minds,” I say.

“That’s highly unlikely.”

“Still.”

“I thought that Megan might boost your spirits,” Mason says. “You two seemed to be having fun. And then I could help Cassie—”

“Is this really about you wanting to go back and get the test done quicker?” I interrupt.

“No, but that would be a side benefit,” Mason says honestly.

“Just go.”

“I can’t leave you here alone.”

“You’ve left me alone a million times,” I say, shaking my head at him. “Get someone to check in on me if you’re so worried.”

“I…” Mason stops. I can tell he’s considering it.

“It’s fine, Mason, really. I’ll be fine. And besides, I sort of want to be alone, anyway.”

Mason nods, understanding. Like me, he enjoys solitude.

“Well, if you really don’t mind, perhaps I’ll call James.”

Two hours later, I’m alone in an empty house on the worst day of my life.

I’m startled awake, and at first I think I slept for twenty-four hours. Then I realize it’s the same horrible day: the day that started in Seattle and ended with me alone in an empty house, forbidden to see my dying friend at the hospital.

I lie still for a minute, thinking of all that’s happened and all that’s gone wrong. I sit up and rub my eyes, growing more and more agitated. Finally, when I can sit still no longer, anger and adrenaline catapult me out of bed and down the stairs. In the middle of the open area between the kitchen and the living room, I turn around, unsure what to do.

Because I have to do something.

And then the answer hits me like a hailstorm.

I run toward the basement door. I turn on the lights and gag on the smell of rat poop as I descend. At the bottom of the stairs, I make sure that every light does its job. I want to see everything: the medical equipment; the rat cages with furry, squeaky test subjects inside; the small, locked closet where they keep the firearms.

I want to see the black case.

Mason’s voice saying In case of an emergency, runs through my head.

If this isn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is.

I reach the case but hesitate before opening it. Somewhere deep inside me, I know what I’m doing is wrong. But then I think of Audrey. I think of Matt. I think of God and the program and Nora. How God controlled Nora. And how, with rules and oaths, he’s controlling me.

I think of Megan.

I think of taking control.

And then, with no more hesitation, I punch in the first code.

At six thirty, I stand alone on the river walk, watching the people move like ants through downtown after a long day at work. Mason and the other agents call them—the normal people—Unenlightened. More like untouched.

I hear the rhythmic thud of feet running toward me but I don’t turn to look. They slow as they approach, and then stop. Raspy breath sounds next to me, but there’s nothing else.

“I want you to know that I’m not doing this for you,” I say, keeping my eyes on the skyline.

“You have your reasons,” Matt answers gruffly. “Can we just do this? I need to get back to the hospital.”

I turn to face him. Our eyes meet for the second time today. And for the second time, despite hating him, I want to hug him. But I don’t. Instead, I reach into my pocket and pull out a tiny loaded syringe with a plastic cover over the needle.

“Burn the syringe after you use it,” I say to Matt.

“Okay.”

“I’ve never actually seen this done on a human,” I continue. “But I think you just give her the whole dose.”

“Where?” he asks. An evening breeze blows his long hair into his eyes. He shakes it out like he’s mad at it.

“I don’t know,” I say. I try to think back. Once I had an IV when I woke up. Maybe twice. “Does she have an IV? You could put it in that. Or just into her arm.”

“Okay,” Matt says, sounding unsure.

“Matt, you don’t have to do it if—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupts. “I have to. It can’t hurt her. I mean she’ll already be—”

“I know,” I jump in, not wanting him to say it. “But I want you to know how big of a deal this is,” I say, thinking of Nora’s situation.

“I’m not going to get you in trouble,” Matt snaps.

“I’m not talking about that,” I say calmly. “There are worse things than me getting in trouble.”

Matt looks at me, waiting for an explanation, but I stop talking and shove my hands into my jeans pockets. I don’t want to scare him, especially right now. Because in my heart I know he’ll do it anyway.

“Just be careful, okay?” My tone is pleading, and I can see in his mellowed gaze that I’ve gotten through.

“I will,” he says quietly. He takes a step away. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Of course,” I say, but it comes out a whisper.

Please let it work, I think.

I watch Matt walk away. He looks back once, and when he does, there’s a flash of something sweet in his eyes. But then he turns away again, and too soon, he’s gone.