My eyes shift over to the comparison on the right, which also has a similarly infected cell surrounded by little particles. This time, I don’t see any tubes for the particles to attach to. “This is what’s actually happening,” the lab tech explains. “We’re missing something from our cure particles that can attach to the cell’s receptors. If we don’t develop that, the rest of the particles can’t work. The cell can’t come in direct contact with the medicine, and the cell dies.”
I cross my arms and exchange a frown with Day, who shrugs helplessly. “How can we figure out the missing piece?”
“That’s the thing. Our guess is that this particular attaching feature wasn’t a part of the original virus. In other words, someone specifically altered this virus. We can see traces of that marker on it when we label the cell.” He points to tiny glowing dots scattered across the cell’s surface. “This might mean, Ms. Iparis, that the Colonies actually physically altered this virus. The Republic certainly has no records of tampering with this one in this specific fashion.”
“Wait a minute,” Day interrupts. “This is news to me. Are you saying that the Colonies created this plague?”
The lab tech gives us a grim look, then returns to the screen. “Possibly. Here’s the curious thing, though. We think this additional piece—the attaching feature—originally came out of the Republic. There’s a similar virus that came out of a small Colorado town. But the tracers tell us that the altered virus came out of Tribune City, which is a warfront city on the Colonies side. So somewhere along that line, Eden’s virus somehow came in contact with something else in Tribune City.”
This is when the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place for me. The color drains from my face. Tribune City: the city that Day and I had originally stumbled into when we first fled into the Colonies. I think back to when I’d gotten ill during my arrest in the Republic, how sick and feverish I’d been when Day carried us through that underground tunnel from Lamar all the way into the Colonies’ territory. I’d been in a Colonies hospital for a night. They’d injected medicine into me, but I never considered the fact that they might have been using me for a different purpose. Had I been a part of an experiment without even realizing it? Am I the one holding the missing piece of the puzzle in my bloodstream?
“It’s me,” I whisper, cutting the lab tech short. Both he and Day give me a startled look.
“What do you mean?” the lab tech asks, but Day stays silent. A look of realization washes over his face.
“It’s me,” I repeat. The answer is so clear that I can hardly breathe. “I was in Tribune City eight months ago. I’d gotten ill while under arrest in Colorado. If this other virus you’re talking about originated first in the Republic and then came back from Tribune City in the Colonies, then it’s possible that the answer to your puzzle is me.”
JUNE’S THEORY CHANGES EVERYTHING.
Immediately she joins the lab team in a separate hospital room, where they strap several tubes and wires to her and take a sample of her bone marrow. They run a series of scans that leave her looking nauseous, scans I’ve already seen being run on Eden. I wish I could stay. Eden’s tests are over, thankfully, but the risk has now shifted to June, and in this moment all I want to do is stay here and make sure everything goes smoothly.
For chrissakes, I tell myself angrily, it’s not like you being here is going to help anything. But when Pascao finally ushers us out the door and out of the hospital to join the others, I can’t help but glance back.
If June’s blood holds the missing piece, then we have a chance. We can contain the plague. We can save everyone. We can save Tess.
As we take a train from the hospital toward Batalla’s airship bases with several Republic soldiers in tow, these thoughts build in my chest until I can barely stand to wait around. Pascao notices my restlessness and grins. “You ever been to the bases before? I seem to recall you doing a few stunts there.”
His words trigger some memories. When I turned fourteen, I broke into two Los Angeles airships that were set to head out for the warfront. I got in—not unlike my stunt with the Patriots back in Vegas—by sneaking in through the ventilation system, and then navigating the entire ship undetected by weaving my way through their endless air vents. I was still halfway through my growth spurt back then; my body was thinner and smaller, and I had no trouble squeezing my way through their myriad of tunnels. Once inside, I stole as much canned food from their kitchens as I could, then set fires in their engine rooms that destroyed the ships enough to ultimately cripple them from serving the Republic for years, maybe forever. It was this particular stunt that first landed me on top of the Republic’s most wanted list. Not too bad a job, if I do say so myself.
Now I think back on the bases’ layouts. Aside from some airship bases in Batalla sector, the four main naval bases in LA occupy a thin strip of land along the city’s west coastline that sits between our enormous lake and the Pacific Ocean. Our battleships stay there, unused for the most part. But the reason that the Patriots and I head there now is that all of LA’s airship docks are there too, and it’s where the Colonies will dock their airships if—when—they try to occupy the city after our surrender.
It’s the third and final day of the Colonies’ promised ceasefire. As the train speeds through the sectors, I can see groups of civilians crowding around JumboTrons that are now running Anden’s surrender notice on repeat. Most look stricken with shock, clinging to one another. Others are furious—they throw shoes, crowbars, and rocks up at the screens and rage against their Elector’s betrayal. Good. Stay angry, use that anger against the Colonies. I need to play out my part soon.