“Such a boring introduction!” Rob clucked his tongue. “They’ve been hiding the pretty ones at Thurmond, I see.”

He held out his hand to me. A large palm, five fingers, hairy knuckles. Normal. By the way I stared, you would have thought his skin was covered in scales. My hand stayed pressed flat against my thigh. I took a step closer to Cate.

There wasn’t a gun in his hand, or a knife, or a White Noise machine, but I could see cuts and bruises, some fresh, crisscrossing the back of his hand, all the way to his wrist, where the angry red lines disappeared beneath the sleeves of his white shirt. It was only when he pulled his hand back that I noticed a spray of small red spots on his right shirt cuff.

Rob’s face tightened when he saw where I was looking. That same hand disappeared behind Cate’s back, tightening around her waist.

“Total heartbreaker, right?” Cate glanced up at him. “She’ll be perfect for inside jobs. Who could say no to that face? An Orange.”

Rob let out an appreciative whistle. “Damn.”

People who valued Oranges. Imagine that.

“Is Sarah all right?” I pressed.

Rob only looked confused.

“She means Norah Jenkins,” Cate said. “The name Sarah was just her cover.”

“She’s fine,” Rob said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “As far as I know they’re still questioning her. I’m sure our eyes in Thurmond will update us if anything changes.”

My hands suddenly felt numb. “Is Cate your name?”

She laughed. “Yes, but my last name is Conner, not Begbie.”

I nodded, only because I didn’t know what else to do or say.

“Didn’t you say there were two of them?” Rob was staring over my shoulder. On cue, I heard a door open and slam shut behind me.

“There he is,” Cate said, clucking like a proud mother hen. “Martin, get over here! I want you to meet your new comrade. He’ll be driving with us to Georgia.”

Martin strode up and took the man’s hand before Rob had the chance to offer it.

“Now,” Cate said, clapping her hands together. “We don’t have much time, but we need you to wash up and change into something a little less conspicuous.”

The SUV let out a steady chime as Rob opened one of its rear doors. As he turned, a few scattered rays of sunlight caught the metal handle of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. I took a step back as he reached for something inside the car that I couldn’t see.

It was stupid of me not to have expected one or both of them to be packing some kind of heat, but my stomach tightened all the same. I turned away, looking at the splotches of old oil tattooed on the pavement, and waited for the car door to slam shut again.

“Here you go,” Rob said, passing us each a black backpack. My fellow freak snatched his, checking its contents like it was a party favor bag.

“It looks like the bathrooms in the station still have some running water. I wouldn’t try drinking it though,” Rob continued. “There’s a change of clothes and some necessities in there. Don’t take a million years, but feel free to wash that camp off you.”

Wash Thurmond off me? Rub it off like a splatter of mud? I may have been able to erase everyone else’s memories, but I couldn’t scrub away my own.

I took my bag without a word, the beginnings of a headache rumbling at the base of my skull. I knew what that meant well enough to take a step back. My heel caught on the uneven cement, sending me stumbling toward the hard ground. I threw out my arms in a lame attempt to reclaim my balance, but the only solid thing I found was Rob’s arm.

He may have thought he was being chivalrous by catching me, but he should have let me fall. My brain released a blissful little sigh as it went tumbling into Rob’s thoughts. All at once, the pressure that had been building in the back of my mind released, sending a tingle racing down my spine. I gritted my teeth at the sinking sensation, anger flooding my system as I tried to yank myself away.

Unlike Cate’s memories, which came and went like fluttering eyelashes, Rob’s thoughts seemed almost lethargic…velvety and murky. They didn’t piece themselves together so much as seep into one another—like ink dropped into a glass of water, the dark mass stretching and slithering until it finally polluted everything that had once been clean.

I was Rob, and Rob was staring down at two dark shapes—two dark sacks covered their heads, but it was obvious that one was a man and the other a woman. It was the latter that had my heart thrumming in my ears. The strength of her sobbing shook her entire body, but she never stopped struggling against the plastic ties binding her hands and feet.

Rain came down around us like an afterthought, running down through the gutters of the nearby buildings. Through the filter of Rob’s mind, it sounded like static. Two enormous black Dumpsters came into focus out of the corner of my eye, and it was only then that I realized we were in an alley, and we were alone.

Rob’s hand—my hand—reached out and ripped the hood off the woman, sending her dark hair flying over her face.

But it wasn’t a woman at all. It was a girl, no older than I was, wearing a set of dark green clothes. A uniform. A camp uniform.

Tears mixed with rain, dripping down over her cheeks into her mouth, Her colorless lips formed the shape please and her eyes seemed to scream no, but there was a gun in my hand, silver and shining despite the low light. The same gun that was tucked in the back of Rob’s jeans. The same one that was now pointed at the girl’s forehead.