Lies (Gone 3)

And then sobbing, filled with hatred for her own mind, for the little cancers that seemed to eat at her soul night and day and night and day.

Your mother misses you….

On the calendar, Mother’s Day was a mark in red, “15th b’day!” She twisted Francis’s watch around and checked the time. Could it really be that late? Sixteen hours now. Sixteen hours until she would be fifteen years old.

Not long. Had to be ready for that, the big fifteen.

Had to be ready to fight the temptation that came to each kid in the FAYZ as they reached that deadly date.

Everyone knew by now what happened. Time would seem to freeze. And while you hung in a sort of limbo, a tempter would come to you. The one person you wanted most to please. The one you wanted most to be reunited with. And they would offer you escape. They would beg you to come across with them, to step out of the FAYZ.

There were a hundred theories of why it happened. Mary had heard numerological theories, conspiracy theories, astrological theories, every variation on aliens, government scientists….

Astrid’s explanation, the “official explanation,” was that the FAYZ was a freak of nature, an anomaly no one could understand, with rules the kids inside the FAYZ should try to discover and understand.

The weird psychological effect of the big fifteen was just a distortion in the mind. There was no reality to the “tempter” and no reality to the demon that followed it.

“Just your mind’s way of dramatizing a choice between life and death,” Astrid had explained with her usual slightly superior tone.

Mostly kids didn’t think about it. To a ten-or a twelve-year-old, age fifteen seemed a long way off. When your fifteenth started getting closer you started thinking about it, but Astrid—back when they still had electricity and printers—had actually printed up a handy little instruction sheet called “Surviving 15.”

Mary didn’t think Astrid would ever deliberately lie. No matter what Nerezza said. But she didn’t think Astrid was infallible, either.

Mostly Mary didn’t have time to waste on philosophical inquiries. To put it mildly. Mostly she was up to her neck in child-related crises.

But the date kept drawing closer. And then…Francis.

And now, Orsay.

On that day you will free your children so that you can be Mary the child again…

Mary could feel the depression closing in on her. It was a patient stalker. It watched and waited. And when it sensed the slightest weakness, it moved closer.

She had forced herself to eat.

And then she had forced herself to throw up.

She was not stupid. She was not unaware. She knew she was unraveling. Again.

Coming apart at the seams.

And soon she would be in that frozen, timeless stasis that Astrid’s helpful booklet had talked about. And she would see her mother’s face calling to her….

Lay down the burden, Mary…

And go to her…

Mary closed her eyes tight. When she opened them, Ashley stood before her. The little girl was crying. She’d had a nightmare and needed a hug.

A kid named Consuela, one of Edilio’s soldiers, had seen it first.

She had run to find Edilio. She was one of the late-night shift that kept an eye during the wee hours. She’d come across it, screamed, and gone running for Edilio. That’s what she was supposed to do.

And now Edilio was standing over it. Wondering what he was supposed to do. He knew the correct answer: report it to the council. He’d given Sam grief for failing to do that earlier.

But this…

“What should I do?” Consuela whispered.