Free Replica by Lauren Oliver Page A

eating well since he escaped. She wondered where he’d gotten his food. She wondered why he’d been so desperate to get out, and whether he knew something she didn’t. Or maybe he was just crazy—plenty of replicas had lost their minds before, like how Lilac Springs had lost her mind during her examinations, had forgotten all the numbers she was supposed to remember. There was Pepper, who’d used a knife to open her wrists, and number 220, who’d simply stopped eating,and number 35, who’d started believing she was one of the rats and would only crawl on all fours. Maybe 72 was like that. Maybe he believed he was an animal and should roam free.
    She couldn’t go on anymore. Cassiopeia was too heavy. Every breath felt like it was hitching on a giant hook in her chest. She tried to call out to 72 but realized she didn’t have the energy even for that. Instead she struggled with Cassiopeia into the reeds, finding footing on the muddy banks that stretched like fingers through the water, until the ground solidified and she could sit. 72 had to double back when he realized she was no longer behind him.
    â€œWe aren’t safe here,” 72 said. He didn’t sound like he’d lost his mind. She noticed how dark his eyes were, so they appeared to absorb light instead of reflecting it. “I should leave you,” he said after a minute.
    â€œSo leave,” she said.
    But he didn’t. He began forcing his way through the reeds, snapping them in half with his hands when they resisted too strongly. The grass was so high and thick here it cut the sky into pieces. “Lie down,” he instructed her, and she did. Cassiopeia was already stretched out in the mud, lips blue, eyes closed, and that sick animal smell coming off her, like the smell in the Funeral Home that no amount of detergent and bleach could conceal. Lyracould see now the glint of something metal wedged in her back, lodged deep. The muscle was visible, raw and pulsing with blood. Instinctively she brought a hand to the wound, but Cassiopeia cried out as if she’d been scalded and Lyra pulled away, her hand wet with Cassiopeia’s blood. She didn’t know how to make the bleeding stop. She realized she didn’t know how to do anything here, in this unbound outside world. She’d never eaten except in the mess hall. She’d never slept without a nurse ordering lights out . She would never survive—why had she followed the male? But someone would come for her. Someone must. One of the doctors would find her and they would be saved. This was all a mistake, a terrible mistake.
    Lyra squeezed her eyes shut and saw tiny explosions, silhouettes of flame drifting above Haven. She opened her eyes again. Cassiopeia moaned, and Lyra touched her forehead, as Dr. O’Donnell had once done for her. Thinking of Dr. O’Donnell made her breath hitch in her chest. There was no explanation for that feeling either—none that she knew of, anyway.
    Cassiopeia moaned again.
    â€œShhh,” Lyra said. “It’s all right.”
    â€œIt’s going to die,” 72 said flatly. Luckily, Cassiopeia didn’t hear, or if she did, she was too sick to react.
    â€œIt’s a she,” Lyra said.
    â€œShe’s going to die, then.”
    â€œSomeone will come for us.”
    â€œShe’ll die that way, too. But slower.”
    â€œStop,” she told him, and he shrugged and turned away. She moved a little closer to Cassiopeia. “Want to hear a story?” she whispered. Cassiopeia didn’t answer, but Lyra charged on anyway. “Once upon a time, there was a girl named Matilda. She was really smart. Smarter than either of her parents, who were awful.” Matilda was one of the first long books that Dr. O’Donnell had ever read to her. She closed her eyes again and made herself focus. Once again she saw fire, but she forced the smoke into the shape of different letters,