I’m a total mess as I walk downstairs, fearful of the doctor, guilty for what I’ve put James through; ashamed I’ve taken Realm’s gift for granted—Dallas’s reaction proves it. I walk into the living room and Dallas’s scowl from the couch radiates white-hot hatred. I move to the other side of the room.
Realm stopped to wash his face, and then he meets me in the room. Cas walks past us toward the kitchen, where I assume the doctor is waiting.
I expect James to come in, but the minutes tick by without him. I shoot a few cautious looks in Dallas’s direction, but she seems unconcerned with his absence. I, however, am beginning to freak out.
“Where’s James?” I murmur to Realm. He shrugs, annoyed I’d even pose the question to him. I’m about to call to Dallas, when there’s movement from the hallway and I startle as a man strides into the room, not waiting for Cas to introduce him.
The man is tall and thin underneath his charcoal suit. He has a gray beard and mustache. He looks like someone’s rich old grandpa, but when he speaks, his voice is crisp as it cuts through the quiet room.
“You’re completely vulnerable here,” he says. He searches until he finds Dallas. “What if I was a handler?”
“Then you’d be wearing white.”
He doesn’t crack a smile. “You know that’s not what I mean, Miss Stone. All of you,” he motions around the room,
“are accessories. One slipup will land you in jail, or worse, in The Program. I suggest you keep your guard up. I won’t be able to save you if you’re caught.”
Dallas’s hard exterior wanes and she begins to chew on her thumbnail, averting his eyes. Everyone else is calm as this man stands in front of us like he’s in charge. James is missing and I’m suddenly alone.
“Who are you?” I ask the man finally.
The doctor slides his hands into the pockets of his suit and presses his lips together in apology. “I’m sorry it’s taken us so long to be introduced,” he says somberly. “I’ve been following your case for some time, Miss Barstow.” He takes a step toward me and extends his palm. “I’m Dr. Arthur Pritchard, and I’m the creator of The Program.”
PART II
THE PROGRAM TIGHTENS CONTROL
With the increasing restrictions put forth by The Program, teens have turned to a new form of expression. Suicide Clubs have cropped up all over the country—illegal underground parties where drugs, alcohol, and depression are commonplace.
Authorities worry Suicide Clubs will lead to a spike in self-termination, and they’re expending considerable resources to track down the proprietors. A recently raided club in Utah touched off a manhunt spanning several states, but The Program isn’t providing any further details about the suspects at this time. However, they’re asking for the public’s help in reporting any and all suspicious behavior.
With the rise of Program-related arrests, the concern of government interference in personal matters has come up again and again. But as the epidemic rages on, inquiries into The Program’s methods continue to be ignored. The focus remains on the success rate of returners and containment of the worsening outbreak.
—Reported by Kellan Thomas
Chapter One
I SWAY, COMPLETELY STUNNED AS PINPRICKS OF
fear inject me with panic. Having the creator of The Program know your name is a bit like Death calling out to you. But here he is, the man who ruined our lives, standing in front of me. No one is reacting the way they should. I scoff at his out-stretched hand and then look accusingly around at the others.
Everything about the world is upended from what it should be: James isn’t here, but the creator of The Program is. This can’t really be happening.
Cas calmly goes to sit next to Dallas, but Realm has angled his body so he can step in front of me if he has to. Although I appreciate it, I’d think he’d want to stop the madness happening right now. But he’s just standing here.
“Why are you here?” I demand from the doctor. He looks at his hand and lowers it. My body begins to tremble, and I’m sure he can see it. “What more could you possibly want from us?” I ask.
“First let me assure you I have no intention of harming any of you. In fact, as Dallas can tell you, I’m here to help. We all want the same thing, Sloane. An end to The Program.”
“You expect me to believe that?” I snap. “You ruined my life. You’re a monster!” I spin, looking around at the others in the room. “What is wrong with all of you?”
“Hear him out,” Cas says. “You don’t know the whole story.” I shake my head in complete and utter disbelief.
“Thank you, Mr. Gutierrez,” the doctor tells him, and turns back to me. “My dear,” he continues, and I cringe under his caring tone, “you are the perfect example of why The Program can never truly work. It’s in your personality to fight for what you believe in, what you love. The Program will fail because, although it can erase memories, the basic personalities remain unchanged. This leads to repeating the same behaviors, and ultimately, the same risks and mistakes.”
What he’s describing sounds like my and James’s relationship. It reminds me that if we fought before and failed, we were stupid enough to try again. “There’s no way I’d ever trust you,” I tell Dr. Pritchard. “I don’t want your help.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have another choice.” He looks at Dallas. “I know you contacted me in hopes of better news, Miss Stone, but your intelligence was correct. The epidemic has spread. There’s a call to action, and The Program is using this to further their agenda.”
It feels like the world has dropped out from under me.
Before he killed himself, Liam had told me about his cousin—
an adult—who committed suicide. He was raving about the epidemic spreading, but I attributed it to his depression. I thought he’d gone crazy. But Liam was right.
Dr. Pritchard takes a stark white handkerchief out his pocket and wipes the sweat that has begun to gather on his brow. He loosens his tie. He sits on a stool in the front of the room as if he’s a teacher and we’re his class. I’m ready to run, find James, and get out of here.
“There have been several incidents of termination just this morning,” the doctor says. “Young men and women in their early twenties, no known exposure to stimulus. Now The Program is evolving to combat the worsening epidemic. There was a story that ran a few weeks ago, but it was quickly buried.”