Isaac did remember, all too well. Sadina had to beg her mom to let him on board. “You wanted to spare me. Because of everything I’d been through.” The grief and the trauma from losing his family. Everyone always meant it without actually saying the words. He wasn’t sure which was worse, them not saying the words or if they had said them: You can’t come because your family is dead. It coated almost everything in Isaac’s life with a stain, ever since the accident. If someone was nice to him, he had to wonder if the interaction was sincere or if it was under the blanket of because your family is dead. Even Sadina went out of her way to include him at times, like inviting him onto the Maze Cutter at the last minute.

  Not that he minded—he really didn’t. It helped. But what was Cowan getting at?

  “You’re right,” she said. “I wanted to spare you because you’d been through so much awfulness. But also, without a single living family member left back on the island—you don’t have any control subjects to your bloodline.” Cowan let the smallest laugh escape before she covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just find it so ironic. That you weren’t supposed to be here with us, but it’s you who I need the most—I trust the most—to help me now.”

  “Control subjects?” Chills went up Isaac’s spine. “You . . . you lied to everyone.” The chills inverted and then went down his whole body. What was Cowan saying? That everyone who boarded the Maze Cutter was a test subject? Dominic, Miyoko, Jackie, Trish, and poor dead Lacey and Carson too? A test for what?

  “Scientists use controls in an experiment. The control group stays unchanged, and in this case it’s the family members who stayed back on the island. The Villa can compare those who receive treatment with the control group to find out if—”

  Isaac held a hand up. “What treatment? I thought this was about taking Sadina’s blood. Creating a cure from Sonya and Newt’s bloodline?” He no longer whispered and he didn’t care who heard him within camp. It was time everyone else woke up to Kletter’s lies, too.

  Ms. Cowan motioned with her hands for Isaac to lower his voice. “Part of what Kletter wanted to see was how immunes might react in the evolved environment of the world today.” Somehow, she managed a smile. “The environment isn’t so great for me.”

  Isaac didn’t understand how she could be so damn happy sometimes. “You lied to everyone here.”

  “Half of the truth isn’t a lie. Everything we came out here for is still true.”

  “What about Alaska? We need to tell the others everything now and they can come with us to the Villa and—”

  “No. The Godhead will explain everything. There’s too much that I don’t know, but the Godhead will answer. Kletter was trustworthy but she was no God.” Isaac was sure about only one of those things: Kletter was definitely no God. “Sadina needs to go to Alaska and work toward the Cure. They’ll come to the Villa in due time. Plus,” Cowan coughed again, “if it comes from us, from me, they’ll be as angry as you are. They’ll refuse. Sadina will never forgive me if she found this out now but if it comes from the Godhead, it will all make sense.” She fixed the fabric around her neck to further cover the rash.

  Isaac thought about what had been said. She was right about predicting Sadina’s reaction, and that’s exactly why Isaac couldn’t go along with all the lies. He could only cover up so much for Ms. Cowan and the rash wasn’t one of those things. He had to put his foot down.

  “We have to tell them the truth about this, about your symptoms,” Isaac said, pointing at Ms. Cowan. “There’s no way around it and there’s no half truth to it. We’re telling Sadina . . . so if anything happens . . .”

  His heart contracted in pain and he walked away. He knew the horror of losing a parent all too well and he didn’t want that to happen to his best friend without warning. Sadina deserved to know. She deserved to know that when she said goodbye to her mom, it might be the last time they ever hugged.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A New Journey

  Two more hours until they reached the Maze Cutter and everyone could rest. Minho didn’t know for sure that they’d find the ship in the next couple of hours, but the feeling grew in his gut. Orphans didn’t have much, but they had instincts. Like flying the Berg. Like meeting Roxy and not killing her despite everything he’d been taught.

  “Careful,” he said to Orange. The ground they walked changed from small stones to sharp-edged rocks that stuck up at all angles. It seemed like the trail could turn into a big cliff looking over the ocean at any moment. He could smell it, hear it. “We’re almost there. Two hours or so.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Orange walked just ahead of Minho. He knew her competitiveness wouldn’t allow him to spot the ship before her. “Sorry. I like to be first. Blame the Grief Bearers.”

  “I get it.” He slowed down and looked behind him, waited for the islanders and Roxy to catch up. Orange was the only one he trusted to go ahead of the group and not get herself killed or lost. He’d once seen her kill three rabid wolves that came at her from the woods without warning. Everyone thought she was a goner.

  “Hey.” Orange dropped back. “Before they catch up . . .”

  Minho didn’t hear Dominic’s obnoxious singing, so they had at least a few minutes. “Yeah?”

  “You’re lying, right?” She placed the tip of her boot on the edge of a jagged rock as if to trace the blade of a knife.

  Minho shook his head. “No. What’re you talking about?”

  “About helping the Godhead? You’re going to Alaska to end them, right?” Orange’s eyes might as well have been question marks.

  Minho’s teeth clenched with the pressure of betrayal. He forgot about that lie, and he couldn’t tell his fellow Orphan the truth. He had to let her believe that he lied to the islanders and not her.

  “I promised I’d get them to Alaska,” he replied vaguely. Never mind that his goal was to join the Godhead, not destroy them as they’d been conditioned from birth. Orange would probably kill him quicker than she’d dispatched those wolves if she found out. “After that, we can figure out a plan.”

  “Hmm. I figured you’d have a plan. Just checking.” She sounded suspicious, but oh well, he thought. She looked up to the trees and pointed at a sparrow landing on its nest with food in its beak. Back in the Remnant Nation she would’ve used that momma bird and baby for target practice. Was she trying to send a message? Returning her attention to Minho, she asked, “You ever wonder about your mom? Who birthed us?”

  “Not really.” It was the second lie he’d spoken in the last ten minutes. Not only did he think about his past family sometimes, he thought about them all the time. In the periphery of his mind. The Grief Bearers had drilled into them that they were orphans. You have no family. You have no friends. You have no name. Only Enemies. And by constantly telling him that he had no family, Minho knew he’d had one. He imagined them all the time.

  “Animals were meant to raise their own. We weren’t created in a lab, manufactured to grow up and protect their walls, right? Someone birthed us.” She glanced back over her shoulder as if she didn’t really think he was listening.

  Minho thought about the birds again. If they were bigger, like pigeons or doves, he would’ve shot them for dinner but they were barely worth a bite of meat. “Birthed us, yeah, then they were thrown into the Flare pits. Great thing to talk about.” That’s what they’d been told, anyway. But of course, rumors always tiptoed their way around the Orphan barracks.

  “But did you ever wonder, what if your parents aren’t dead?” A quirky smile spread across Orange’s face as if she knew something he didn’t.

  “No. I never wondered that.” He placed the thought up there right along with Orange believing in some kind of massively organized Crank Army. It was silly, naive. Unfounded. Thankfully, the roar of the ocean had grown louder and the salt in the air had intensified, meaning this conversation could be over soon.

  “Hear me out,” she continued. “What if the Grief Bearer who raised you was your dad? What if they wore those hooded cloaks to hide how much we look like them?”

  Minho had the slightest notion that someone on the planet might be related to him. Especially Griever Glane. Orange was full of wild ideas. “Well, if he was . . . he’s dead now.”

  Roxy came into view with Miyoko, soon followed by the rest of the group. Minho started walking again, alongside Orange, and their movement caused the bird to fly away. “What made you think up this, anyway?” he asked.

  “Because if they lied to us about one thing, who’s to say they didn’t lie about more?” She was right, nothing outside of Remnant Nation had turned out quite like he’d expected. Minho looked around at the vast openness of nature, the trees, the animals, the sky, the clouds. Peaceful. Their whole lives they’d been warned about the the outside, but the only real threat since leaving the Remnant Nation was from the Remnant Nation. They’d seen few Cranks in the wild, and the most dangerous thing about the islanders were Dominic’s various unsavory habits.

  “You think you have parents that are still alive?” Minho asked.

  “Me? No. Ever seen anyone with hair like this? Me neither.” She walked over rocks that grew bigger and bigger. “But Skinny and I used to joke that maybe we were related because we both had the same birthmark.”

  “Really? Let me see.”

  She showed him the thin smear of ropy, white skin on the outside of her elbow. “His was exactly the same, but maybe it’s just a scar from some lovely childhood torture. Like the ropes.”

  Minho remembered. The Grief Bearers hung them by the arms until they were all pins and needles, almost numb. Then they’d lower them, hand over a gun, order them to shoot at targets, which faced each other in a zigzag pattern, only feet apart. Missing a target meant hitting another Orphan.

  Minho examined the birthmark again. “Doesn’t really look like a scar. Maybe you were born with it.”

  “Well, whatever. I like to think it matched because we were family somehow.”

  He saw a familiar look in her eyes. That feeling of trying to replace the complete abandonment that came with being an Orphan. “Maybe you were.” The problem was, the abandonment had no name, had no face, only had a feeling. And that feeling was present in everything. Minho instinctively checked his own elbow, but no birthmark or scar.

  Time to move on, he thought.

  Luckily Orange did just that. “So after we find the boat we’ll hunt for supplies. A week’s worth for ten people is—”

  “Seven.” Minho rubbed at his elbow. “There’s only going to be seven.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” As soon as she asked, Minho realized that he did trust Orange or he wouldn't have said anything. Maybe he could trust her with his secret after all.

  He looked behind them to make sure no one could hear. “Cowan and Isaac need to stay behind.” He whispered even though the rest of the pack was a good bit behind them.

  Orange didn’t seem to care all that much. “What about the third person, you said seven?”

  He shrugged. “I just have a feeling someone else will choose them over Alaska when they find out.”

  “Find out what?” Her curiosity finally appeared ignited. “You have to tell me.”

  “Swear on Skinny’s life you won’t spill it.”

  “I swear on his soul.”

  Minho took wider steps as the path changed again. The rocks along the trail were smoothing out. They had to be close and were just turning a corner of jutting land loaded with palm trees. “Cowan’s sick. Isaac’s going to take her to the Villa.”

  And then there it was, all at once. The ocean. Vast and blue and sparkling. Endless. Forever. The most stunning thing he’d ever witnessed. Without thinking he’d stopped walking and could only stare.

  “Holy ship.” Orange said.

  She pointed ahead at an inlet on the coast below them. A ship, alright. As big as a Berg, floating on the water as if it had always and only known peace. Remnants of missing letters along the side made it clear:

  The Maze Cutter.

  He felt as if he was looking upon the Maze itself.

  A ship as solid as any Grief Walker. Ugly, but solid. Ready for use.

  Maybe even a vehicle fit for a God.

  The mood of the group shifted once they found the boat. Miyoko couldn’t stop smiling, Dominic sang louder than usual, and Roxy and crew were downright celebrating.

  But not Isaac. He didn’t have anything to celebrate. Finding the Maze Cutter felt so final. Once everyone boarded the ship, he might never see them again. An anxiety churned deep inside his stomach that wouldn’t settle. Seeing the Maze Cutter again, he couldn't shake the memory of Kletter arriving on the island with eight dead bodies rotting on the deck of the ship. Was Minho different? He had an arsenal of weapons, after all. The people who went to the island with Kletter were once on her side, too. Of course, they only had her word for it. And now Minho’s.

  While the others hunted and gathered for the long journey ahead, Isaac set up a secret forge deep off the coast of the beach with scraps of wood, concrete, and metal he found. He needed to prepare for the worst and have something that resembled a knife if he needed it. More than that, it was the break he needed. The therapy.

  He pounded metal on metal, CLANK, CLANK, CLANK, hoping the noise didn’t echo all the way to the beach. He hammered the hot steel three strikes at a time to mimic a birdsong.

  “Oh look, it’s the future Captain Sparks,” Sadina said as she pulled tree branches away to clear a path. “What are you doing?”

  Busted.

  “Making a knife.” He didn’t look up. He couldn’t.

  “Minho and Orange have plenty of weapons, and grew up using them. I think if anything happens we’ll be—”

  “It’s just in case.” He banged the metal harder. He didn’t want to tell her. Not here. Not now. Not ever. That her mom was sicker by the day and that it was up to him alone to save her or it’d be up to him to kill her.

  “I guess it’s good to get some smithing practice before you get back to the island. The real Captain Sparks might finally promote you.” She smiled with innocence, with the ease of someone whose life had never been turned upside down. Thinking of going back to the island was like imagining his parents and sister alive again. It was a stretch to even create the images in his mind, they were too far away. And soon, Sadina and the memory of her would be just as far away.

  “You think we’ll ever be home again?” He tried not to sound hopeless, but who knew if Minho and the group wouldn’t settle into a new home once they got to Alaska.

  “Yeah, I do. It’s our home.” She said it without question, but Isaac wasn’t convinced. If a family could be taken away, then a home just as easily could cease to exist. “I know things are different. I know when we go back, nothing will be like it used to be.” She moved closer and finally reflected the amount of heaviness that Isaac felt. “Trish has been a little extra since we got kidnapped.” She let out a fake laugh that she only did when things were the furthest from funny.

  He couldn’t return it. “Well, from what Jackie said, Trish almost didn’t make it through that. Cried every day and every night, it was all they could do to keep her from dying of dehydration after all that crying.” He looked over at Sadina but she wasn’t changed by this information, so he added, “You know people can die of a broken heart.” Sadina rolled her eyes. “She loves you.”

  Now, a sigh. “I know. She just loves me in a very heavy way right now. I can’t even get up at night without her coming to check on me. Plus, since we got back with everyone I haven’t had much time to talk to you.” She nudged him.

  She was right, they hadn’t talked much since he saw the rash on Ms. Cowan’s neck because Isaac couldn’t lie to his best friend. He did his best to create natural distance between them, and Trish’s overprotectiveness lately helped the effort.

  Isaac forced a smile. “It’s alright. We’re always going to be close even if we’re not right next to each other.” Sadina nodded but that wasn’t enough for him. “Promise?” he asked.

  She recited the motto they’d had since childhood. “From the sea to the sky, I promise.”

  He hadn’t thought about the saying in years. “From the sea to the sky.”

  Isaac went back to pounding on the metal to flatten the knife he’d made, and with Sadina looking on, it was almost like they were back home and she might start begging him to cut out of work early for the day to go for a swim.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” Sadina asked and Isaac’s stomach dropped. How could she trust him with a secret and he not return the favor?

  “Of course.” He wished he hadn’t promised Ms. Cowan to keep quiet until the day they boarded the ship. Should he tell Sadina? It wasn’t his whole secret to tell, but Isaac felt so much guilt about keeping this from his best friend.

  “I’m a little scared about what happens when we get to Alaska. What if they want to separate me from you guys? Trish can’t take that.” She fumbled with a rock in her hand, and Isaac had to wipe his face to hide the springing emotions. Her question wasn’t a “what if” to Isaac—it was guaranteed to happen. She was about to get separated from her mom and her longtime friend before they even left for Alaska.

  “You’re strong enough to get through anything. And Trish might surprise you, too. Just hang in there.” He hammered back away at the knife.

  “When you’re done with that, can you help me make something too?” Sadina held up a piece of metal wire in her hands. “Found it on the beach.”

  “Sure thing. What do you want to make?” He leaned over the makeshift forge. He only wanted to make her happy and hoped she didn’t hate him forever when it came time to leave.