I try to move toward her, to make her understand, but the agony of my twisted ankle prevents me. Deep purple and blue bruising has already spread across my inflamed foot. A mark of my penitence.

“Girls, we don’t have time for this,” Father says. He turns off the work lamp and approaches the back window, trusting the smart glass to conceal him. His eyes penetrate the black of the outside world, searching for leftover patrols.

Ava and I have never once been above ground together. Being in the kitchen with her now feels vulnerable and unbalanced. I need her to look at me, to tell me it’s okay, but I’m too afraid to speak. Ava! I shout in my head. But she holds her focus on the glass wall facing the empty street.

Satisfied we are alone, Father takes my tablet and punches in several codes to destroy all our data. “You can’t bring any devices in case you’re monitored.” He sets my tablet on the counter beside his own, which displays a running timer. He’s going to detonate the basement.

“We leave in five minutes,” he says, climbing the steps to the second floor.

Shoes. I need to put on shoes. I grasp for practicality, for something I can control. I walk heavily to the rucksacks and see Ava has already placed a pair of black boots on the chair for me. Pulling them on gingerly, I keep the laces of my right boot loose to fit my swelling ankle. When I look up I find Ava examining me, and our eyes meet like they always do, communicating a myriad of thoughts and emotions with just one glance.

Father glides down the staircase and in two long strides stands before us, a plastic box in his hands. His manner now earnest, he holds it out to Ava and opens his mouth to explain, but the words die in his throat.

The pulsating sound of the house alarm cuts through the room, sinking my heart and paralyzing my brain. Father suddenly surges forward, arms out, trying to block Ava and me just as a camera flash goes off, freezing the moment in time.

It takes several maddening seconds to blink out the spots in my vision, and when my eyes finally adjust, I see a single figure in the hallway. The slinking silhouette of Halton Roth.

He stands hypnotized, eyes raking over the two of us cowering behind our father’s arms.

“Twins,” he says, breathless. “I knew it.”

Father explodes and charges for Halton, who lets out a loud squeal and turns to run. But Father catches him easily and with no hesitation punches him hard along the jawline. He drops to the ground like dead weight.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” I repeat, my fear all-consuming. My eyes scan the room for evidence of broken glass, but I find nothing. Did he crack our security codes?

“The picture,” Ava says, rushing past Halton’s unconscious body to his fallen tablet. “Did he send it?”

Father turns off the alarm and grabs the tablet. He swipes Halton’s finger across the screen to activate the sensor. I want to turn away, to not know the answer, but I force myself to look. To face our fate.

The picture pops up, and both Ava’s face and my face stare back at us. Dumbstruck, terrified. Identical. “Shared” flashes bright in the bottom corner.

Father slams the tablet to the ground, shattering it into pieces. Before I can say anything, he leads us to the kitchen. “Listen to me. You have to run.” He pushes the plastic box into Ava’s protesting arms. “Take this and open it when you’re safe outside the city.”

I shake my head, uncomprehending, and my eyes dart to Father’s right wrist. The skin is smooth and untouched, his microchip still intact. Ava sees it too.

“You’re not coming with us,” Ava voices my thoughts out loud. She says it as a statement, resigned to its inevitability.

“Why?” I say, taking a desperate step toward him.

“If the governor has me, there’s a chance they won’t come after you. I can convince them you two are not a threat, but you will prove them wrong.”

“No!” I shout. “We’re not leaving without you!”

“Where do we go?” Ava says evenly, reaching for her rucksack.

“Get out of Dallas before sunrise,” Father says, ignoring the muffled groan from Halton on the floor. “Stick to the crowds and take the rail to Amarillo before they can find you on the surveillance system. There are more instructions in the box.” He shoves it safely into the bottom of Ava’s bag before placing the heavy rucksacks on each of our shoulders.

I hear the faint scream of sirens in the distance.

“You have to move,” he says. “If you don’t go now, this will have all been for nothing. Survive. Survive for me and your mother.” Forcing a light smile, he pulls both of us closer. He touches our cheeks with great care, and I know he is memorizing our faces.

“You were born tied together forever,” he says, folding my hand into Ava’s. “Never leave each other.”

I cling to my father like a child. Ava lets out a soft cry and wraps her arms around him, her hand still linked to mine. “I love you,” he whispers to us. His voice cracks, and the pain is too much to bear. His words are so final, and with overwhelming clarity I understand this is our last good-bye.

The sirens grow louder, and Father gently lets go of us. I see tears in his eyes. I see strength.

“Now run.”

PART II

THE TRUTH

AVA

Sirens rip through the air, overpowering all my senses. The alarm penetrates my ears and my eyes, its piercing touch invading my skin and overtaking my ability to smell anything but fear. I can taste the hot sound inside my mouth, and it tastes like blood and danger.

Mira and I escape through the underground passage in the garden, Father’s voice screaming inside my head, fighting through the sirens: Take the rail to Amarillo before they can find you on the surveillance system.

An explosion erupts from our house, the blast shaking the ground. The basement. It’s been destroyed.

I grab Mira’s hand, and we sprint toward a winding path that leads through the neighborhood, avoiding the streets.

“The umbrellas,” I say as we charge over a fence and through a backyard covered in tiny stone pebbles. Mira finds the two black umbrellas in my rucksack, tosses one to me, and we quickly throw them up above our heads to shield our faces.

The wailing cries grow faint in the background as we continue to flee away from our home, away from our father.

Roth is arresting him right now.

I push this thought to the back of my mind and focus on the flashing lights of the metropolis ahead. Breathing heavily, Mira falls behind. I notice that she’s running with a slight limp, and I know she must be hurting, but there’s no time for sympathy.

“We have to keep moving,” I say and press forward, forcing her to keep pace.

The TXRAIL station that will take us to Amarillo is in the heart of Dallas. I immediately see Father’s plan: the Guard won’t anticipate our running toward downtown, into an area with so much surveillance. They will expect us to hole up and hide in the fringes of the city until we are rooted out.

But how do we get on the rail undetected? And why Amarillo?

My chest heaves painfully by the time we throw ourselves into an alleyway sandwiched between two large glass buildings. Mira shoots her eyes up the side of the skyscraper.

“I don’t see any cameras,” she whispers. Regardless, we both continue to hold our umbrella shields firmly over our heads, the paranoia of surveillance deep-seated and constant.