I arose from the cot carefully and slowly, suppressing the frantic urgency in my mind. At every movement, I anticipated another horrible shock, my heart pumping rapidly with dread.

If I tripped and quickly caught myself, would I be shocked? What if my heart started moving too fast? I didn't know how sensitive the trigger was yet, and I was not eager to find out.

Practically moving in slow motion, I inched my way around the bed to the desk where Van usually sat. Unsurprisingly, when I tried to open the drawers, they were all locked. I would have tried to force them open if not for fear of electrocution.

Aside from the desk, cot, and heart monitor, the room was mostly empty and nondescript. The walls and ceiling were white, and the floor was tiled and grey. There were no windows. There was an air vent, but it was much too small, even for me, to fit into. That left the heavy metal door, which didn't budge when I gently tugged on the handle.

I raked my fingers through my hair, probably in an unconscious gesture of stress. But when my fingers grazed the base of my neck, I froze.

I swore I'd felt something underneath the skin.

"No," I said aloud as I clawed and pinched at it, struggling to believe it was really there.

But no matter how much I wished it was, it was not my imagination. There was a small, hard bead, maybe a centimeter across, implanted in the flesh of my neck.

My heart sank, and a powerful shudder rippled through my body, causing me to stagger. I exhaled with a short burst of relief that I hadn't been shocked for the sudden movement, then quickly resumed panicking.

When I was shocked before, the electricity had radiated from the base of my neck, I remembered. My breathing turned into gasps as I made the connection—the jolts had come from it.

I needed to get it out. And I needed to do it without Van or anyone else finding out.

But were there cameras in the room? I whirled on my heel in a full circle. I couldn't see any, yet I felt as if I was being watched.

I knew I was being monitored. Van had first come into the room when my heart rate rose. I gazed toward the heart monitor, steadily beeping at a quick pace. They were tracking my pulse with the implant, I concluded. Nothing else made sense.

I wanted it out. I was crawling in my skin. It was so sickeningly...invasive. Almost worse than holding me prisoner, they'd lodged something inside me. I scratched at it with my fingernails until my skin stung.

I could probably get it with my bare hands, but I wasn't sure that was a good idea. They would know the instant I took it out—my heart rate on their monitor would go flat. It would also inevitably be painful, and it might get bloody. I would need to hide the evidence. On top of all that, fingernails were hardly the most sanitary choice of surgical instrument.

But I couldn't make any attempt at escape until I took it out. For all I knew, it was likely tracking my location too.

Did I seriously think I would be making a daring escape? I doubted I could get out of my room, much less the high-security facility I must have been housed in. I pictured dozens of armed guards on patrol around the building, wherever I was, and decided against that action.

At least, not until I'd planned things out a little better.

Suddenly, before I could move another inch, the door burst open.

Van stepped in and assessed me. "Oh good, you're finally out of bed," he said casually, with a hint of mockery.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, it's you again. Does anyone else work here?"

He cracked a smile as he approached. Now that we were both upright, I realized that he was really tall and lanky. My head barely came up to his shoulder, and he was as skinny as me despite the fact that he'd said I was malnourished.

Now I was significantly less confident that I could take him in a fight, if it ever came to that. I realized I didn't really want to fight him, as things stood, though I was still suspicious of his intentions.

"If we're quick and quiet about it, I can take you to see Doc now," Van said rapidly, in a hushed tone. "He's not feeling well enough to leave his room."

I nodded, and Van led the way, even holding the door open for me.

This was a massive opportunity. I would finally get a glimpse of the building outside my room, and I'd have a chance to formulate routes of escape.

Still, I hesitated. My feet stayed planted even as my mind urged me to move. "Will I be shocked?"

"Oh, no—they've put it on a lighter setting. Essentially, just don't run and you'll be fine." His gaze lingered on me for a long moment that almost seemed meaningful, but I didn't have time to overanalyze it. I stepped forward.

In the hallway, icy air swirled over the surface of my skin. I shivered as goosebumps rose up and down my arms. I was still wearing a hospital gown, which, besides being incredibly demeaning, was inadequate in the surprisingly cold temperature.

Van led me down a series of hallways. They were empty, devoid of any other people. I focused on memorizing the pattern: a left turn, then right, right again, left...

The complex was large, yet I saw no windows, only blank white walls. I hypothesized that we were underground, which would also explain the frigid air biting at my skin.

I had to move quickly to keep up with Van's long-legged strides, pushing the limits of when I expected another agonizing zap of electricity.

While we continued down a long, straight hallway, I asked him about something that had been bothering me. "What time of day is it?" I had no indication of the passage of time here. I wanted to get my bearings.

He frowned as if my words saddened him. "Late, after midnight."

There was a silence. "Did my question bother you?" I wondered.

He glanced over his shoulder—checking if anyone could hear, I realized. Then he answered in a whisper, "It depresses me to do this—to help them do this to you kids. They've stolen so much from you." He shook his head, staring at the ceiling as it glided past above our heads.

"Then why are you here?" Some of my anger spilled out in the words; they came out sounding harsh and accusatory.

"They've threatened me," he said flatly.

"Oh," I said, surprised. But also not.

We walked some more in silence, but I couldn't withhold my curiosity. "But why do they have you...doing so much? I mean, it seems like you're doing the jobs of multiple people."

"They want the fewest people possible to know about what's going on here."

I swallowed hard, perturbed by his words. Secrecy seemed like a bad omen. I wanted people to know that I was still alive, stuck here against my will. I wanted them to know what the government was capable of.

At last, we stopped outside a door. Van scanned a keycard at the lock beside it.

I took a deep breath and mentally braced myself for what I was about to see.