Two worlds collide in my mind: Tenebra and New York. I live through both, in synchronization, and they spin past my eyes and memory like an old VHS on fast forward. Threads tie the two lives together. Everything is clear. Nothing is veiled in smoke or mist.

The emotions that come with that integration almost cripple me—Nole’s death, the cure failing, stabbing the Spore, the desperation to live, selling my soul to the dark world of Tenebra, the guilt of being resuscitated by Stranna in the Real World and being stabbed by the Spore girl in the Nightmare . . .

I wrench myself out of the drowning flood of thought.

My vision flickers, eyes flutter.

I’m awake. Stone arches above me. I’m still in Tenebra. There’s no sword in my skull and no Spore Girl. But something’s different.

I sit up gingerly, a headache pulsing behind my eyes. But there’s no more fog. I think of life in the Real World, in The Fire Swamp, and it’s clear. A regular memory not dimmed or dulled by confusion. I can see both my lives with clarity.

Did the Spore girl do that with her sword?

I touch my forehead, still feeling the piercing heat of pain, but my fingers encounter no blood, wound, or even a scratch. I thought she was taking her revenge, but her weird sword seems to have sliced through the barrier between these two realities. It feels like a good thing, but that can’t be right. Why would she do that?

Luc said the Spores mess with the mind. Twist truths. Deceive people into believing Spores are the good guys.

They got me. I’ve been Spored.

Yet I still believe she’s an enemy. So maybe her Spore infection didn’t fully work. Or maybe it’s going to take time to chip away at my will. Either way, I push myself to my feet with care and look around. No one is here except my tiger. There were no witnesses to her attack on me. Not much time seems to have passed, though the Spore girl is gone.

I tuck away this new clarity. I can’t tell Luc about this. He’ll think I’ve been infected. But whatever she did to me, I can fight it. I am fighting it. I’m still me. But somehow I feel compromised.

What did she sneak into my head?

It was one thing to be suspicious of Tenebra and the Emperor, but it’s a whole other thing to be suspicious of my own mind.

The gas tanks are gone from the bed of my truck. The tank siphoned down to less than a quarter full.

Someone looted us while I slept.

Thankfully they left The Fire Swamp alone. Maybe it’s the scorch marks on the outside, or maybe they didn’t want to risk encountering someone who might wake from the Nightmare. No matter the reason, I’m thankful to be alive with at least a half-hour’s worth of fuel.

It’s nighttime, like always. I absentmindedly update my time card so it reads:

Infected: 22

Remaining Sleeps: 1

I don’t know why I do this. It serves only to remind me of how little control I have over my own fate.

Stranna is where I left her. Unmoved. My letter is untouched. It’s been 24 hours since I found her in The Fire Swamp, and if she hasn’t moved in all that time, that means only one thing.

She’s trapped in the Nightmare.

Her time awake is spent. She is now at the mercy of . . . me. It’s up to me to keep her body fed, watered, and taken care of. Perhaps that’s why she saved me from the fire: in the hope that I’d be a decent soul who would keep her from dying now that she’s stuck in Tenebra.

Why am I always thinking someone has an ulterior motive?

Perhaps because they do.

I sigh. I failed Nole. I failed myself.

I won’t fail this girl. I may not have a LifeSuPod, but I have an extra bed and enough food to see us through for a few more days. At the very least I can keep her alive that long.

I assess the gas situation again. Whoever robbed me did it fast, not even sticking around to empty the whole tank—a small win. But it’s not enough to get me to the high-rise. I go to tend the chickens, but they’re gone, eggs and all. My gut twists. I don’t blame the thieves, it’s hard to say no to fresh meat. But those hens served me and Nole very faithfully in the worst housing conditions. I hope they’re given swift deaths.

Back in the truck cab, I consult the map shoved in the glove box. I mark all of Luc’s locations while they’re still fresh in my mind. I have no choice now. I have to head to his secret fuel stash. I don’t like it. He didn’t guarantee there will be gas there, and I’ll be on empty by the time I arrive.

It’s an all-or-nothing trip.

I shift into gear and we head out. I stop a handful of times near abandoned vehicles to see if I can siphon any gas, but they’ve all been picked clean by other travelers. And there is no telling who is living inside those abandoned cars with guns at the ready.

I direct us back onto the freeway, letting my mind return to Tenebra and the Spore girl. She’d come back to life somehow—defying everything I know about the Nightmare. Proving that there’s a cure beyond Galilei’s knowledge. The Nightmare isn’t the end.

So why wouldn’t she answer me?

I understand her desire to run—I had, after all, stabbed her to death. But that was only because she’d been coming for me, or so I’d thought. I think about her claim that she and her ilk hadn’t killed Nole. Supposedly they don’t care about killing me either. I want to disbelieve her, but if she wanted me dead, she could have killed me there under the archway when I was vulnerable from her sword in my skull. Spill my blood, get my tiger to eat me.

Instead, she walked away and acted as though I was the darkness.

It takes 20 minutes to reach the part of town where Luc’s fuel stash is supposed to be, and my meter blinks empty. I pass a few scattered lights. Not a good sign. If people live here they’re already watching me. That means the fuel is probably guarded. Or gone.

I’m not feeling up for another battle. I’m lucky I wasn’t blasted to smithereens by the rifleman at the storage unit. I reload my revolver. Six whole shots. I park the truck and The Fire Swamp along an empty street—easily accessible if I need to make a break for it.

Luc sent me here. I have to trust that he set things up so I could get gas without dying.

I’ve hardly taken a step when a child’s voice says, “Icarus?”

I freeze for a moment, then relax as a little girl with bobbed brown hair steps out of the shadows. A boy is at her side, an inch or so taller and far more stern than his age should allow, but neither child looks older than 8.

“Hi,” I say gently so as not to startle them. “Yes, I’m Icarus. Or you can call me Cain.”

“The Emperor said you’d come!” the girl says. “We’ve been keeping your gas safe.” She looks behind me like I might have a backpack or something. “I’m really hungry, but I’ve been patient!”

“We’ve all been patient,” a firm voice behind me states, followed by the cock of a gun.

I slowly lift my hands, my revolver tucked tight in my belt.

“I’m not here to hurt anybody.” I dare a glance over my shoulder. A man, late forties, holds a rifle at the ready, but he doesn’t look like the type who’d shoot. Casual tennis shoes, jeans, and a T-shirt that says Dad Beast on it with some dumbbells beneath it.

I cautiously turn. “I’m with Luc. The Emperor.”

“I knew it!” A girl of around twelve pops out from around the corner. “You’re finally here!”

“Get back inside, Becca.”