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her words were clipped short.

The ground vibrated, rattled, and the air hummed as the very building blocks of the universe broke apart.

A shockwave swept out and we felt it pass. That was an answer to Sharlotte’s question. It tore through the Jimmy’s canopy, shattered her insides, and it fell from the sky in front of us. Nothing and no one could’ve survived that blow.

The mushroom cloud started small. All was quiet, as if the world had stopped to watch the destruction, as the explosion grew and grew and grew.

It took so long until the sound hit us. It was the sound of the world ending and twenty-five thousand souls screaming.

It was evening, but a new star emerged on the plains in front of the Rocky Mountains, hydrogen atoms melting and coming together at light speed, eating up each other and crapping each other out.

We watched the nuclear weapon consume Denver.

“Pretty,” Wren murmured in her great deep voice.

And it was. Even with all the slaughter and all that destruction, the beauty was undeniable. The entire Great Plains glowed from the blast.

The light began to dim, and the wind took the smoke and ash and spiraled it around us, and it was snowing again. Only it wasn’t snowing. That was ash—from the bodies and buildings.

The day ended. Night hurried in to stand hushed over the dead.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I SURRENDERED, NOT to my own ideas about myself, but to a vision of a better world. I had to change to be of service. Perhaps that is the only real reason to change—so we can help others.

—Burke, Sally Brown, My Apologies, New York: Simon & Schuster, 2076

(i)

Dawn came slow. Like it didn’t want to see what had happened.

The Heartbreaker lay like a wounded whale in the snow. Four out of her eight air cells were damaged, many of her guns destroyed. The night had covered her with a layer of frost. The sunlight of the new day, however dim, made her sparkle.

The world around us had turned gray, and it was like walking on another planet. We’d spent the night in the Heartbreaker, in the bunks of those soldiers who had been killed. We didn’t fear any ARK forces would find us ’cause they’d also been consumed in the blast.

When I saw Sharlotte’s bunk empty, I knew she’d be outside. Didn’t know what she’d be doing, couldn’t have guessed, not in a million years.

Pilate slept on, and Wren, too big for the bunks, slept on the floor near him, her greasy hair hanging in her face. President Jack got his own room as did Baptista.

I slipped out. Met Baptista in the hall, with tears on her face. “We killed Eibling and all those soldiers. If we hadn’t have blown the bridges, built the fence, they could’ve escaped.”

“No,” I said. “Not a chance. Hoyt couldn’t let anyone, no one, know about his cloned creatures. And he wanted us bad. Bad enough to sacrifice how many Regios, Severins, and Octos? He was going to use that bomb no matter what. And even if the U.S. army had been freed, they wouldn’t have known to run. They couldn’t have fled far enough even if they did know.”

“I shouldn’t even have been here,” she whispered. “I can’t go on.”

“No,” I said, “you can’t. You’re going to go to Cleveland. You’re going to get to my friends, Anjushri Rawat and Billy Finn, and you’re going to keep them safe. And when the time comes, you’re going to tell the press everything you saw. We’ll leave out where you became an outlaw. You’ll just be another soldier wandering out of the Juniper Wars. By the time this is over, you won’t be the only one.”

A perplexed look blurred her eyes. “Not go with you? I’m a part of the family now.”

A part of the family. Like June Mai. A lump of emotion caught in my throat. I removed the lump with rage, a raised voice, and a clenched fist. “People in our family die. All of them. They die. You wanna die, Baptista? You want that?”

Her fear melted into confusion before settling on sadness.

I marched past her, disgusted with myself for not being able to explain that losing June Mai, Aunt Bea, all the others, wasn’t just a shock, but it was the end of the line. We weren’t going to get out alive. Not a one of us. Sharlotte, Wren, Pilate and I were going to our graves and I’d be goddamned if I dragged another soul into our quest.

Micaiah had been so right, a dozen months ago, by going it alone and keeping his apple of discord to himself. We’d all scratched our heads at his secretive ways, but now we knew, now we saw his genius.

We were idiots to have brought a single person into our family; they’d all died for our foolishness.

Not anymore.

The four of us were the last of a suicide squad, going up north into enemy territory, and not a one would make it out alive.

Which was fine.

I was looking forward to seeing Mama again.

And if there wasn’t a Heaven?

Wouldn’t matter then. I’d be dead, silent, all voices gone.

“What about President Jack?” Baptista asked my back. “Am I taking him?”

I didn’t answer. Kept on going. I didn’t know what would happen to President Jack. Right then, didn’t care.

(ii)

Outside of the Heartbreaker, in the paper-thin sunshine, I found Sharlotte. From the noise, I knew she could only be doing one thing. Digging. Her pick struck a rock with a dull ping. Another swing and the pick munched into the dirt.

The sun couldn’t warm much that day, too much junk in the atmosphere, so Sharlotte was trying to dig into frozen mud.

“What are you doing, Sharlotte?” I asked.

She turned and like Baptista, her face was wet with tears. Also red from cold and exertion. “Digging her grave. I know I ain’t got her body, but I have to dig her one. My wife. My dead wife. June Mai.”

I approached her and eased the pick out

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