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“But?” I prompted again when he didn’t continue.

“But the actual result was a group of incredibly unstable, violent specimens, unable to take direction or be controlled except with pain,” he replied, with the first hint of bitterness. “And specimens unrelated by blood tended to eat one another. We’re still not certain what exactly went wrong. Errors in gene selection, possibly, or perhaps we simply made them too primitive. It’s difficult to pinpoint the exact cause when there are so many factors. But ultimately, we deemed the project a failure. With no place to keep the specimens, we ultimately decided to release them into the Wasteland.”

I stared at him as I processed his words. Horror paralyzed my tongue.

Finally, I managed to voice only one thought. “Why not destroy them?”

“Really, Claire, how inhumane,” Julius chided, showing a line of extremely-white teeth. “I never considered that you could be so bloodthirsty. In any case, I made the final decision. Wastelanders have always been a problem, and I saw a simple solution, in the same way that the farmers of old released cats into their barns to keep away rats. And because we crafted the specimens to reproduce easily and quickly—allowing us to produce their offspring on an efficient timeline, should the project have succeeded—they simply bred like rabbits and spread far and wide. One of my better ideas in the face of failure.”

My blood ran cold. The magnitude of this crime was hard to fathom. They’d created a bioweapon of their own and unleashed it on the poor people left behind in the world they’d helped ruin. And the cold look in Julius’s eyes told me he regretted nothing, that he didn’t even see the Wastelanders he’d targeted as human beings. They were vermin, crawling over the carcass of a world he no longer deemed worthy of his notice or respect.

And the specimens they’d created were nothing more than the playthings of a man who rightfully thought his power had no limits, because he’d never discovered any. If unrelated specimens were hostile to each other, it also meant that horrific inbreeding was likely, which probably made whatever was wrong with the initial group even worse.

Who knew how many had died because of this failed experiment? Who knew how many more still would?

“You’re appalled,” Julius observed, taking another drink of wine. “But in leadership, difficult decisions must be made. I’m surprised your father, the exalted general, wouldn’t have taught you that. Pity.”

My father would’ve hated you. Of this, at least, I was certain. Perhaps he had, a voice in my head whispered. Julius claimed to have met him, after all.

“But I’ll tell you the same thing I told my worthless eldest son,” he continued, levelling me with a hard stare. I was shocked to learn this man had children. Whoever they were, I immediately pitied them. “This is apocalypse. The world is not a kind place. It never was. Kind people do not survive. I expect that to be a lesson you’ll take to heart.”

I somehow managed to answer in a way that didn’t betray my disgust. “I understand.”

His grotesque grin made me sick. “Good. Now, go and wait for Major Hamilton to escort you back to the house. I have work to do.”

The next few days passed in a blur. Another public event was arranged for me, since the library had been such a catastrophe. This time, however, it was held inside the Pyramid’s event hall for additional security, and all the non-elite guests were pre-screened carefully beforehand. They formed a receiving line, just as before, and I spoke a few words to each of them and thanked them for their support.

It was still incredibly strange to meet with people who looked up to me—a few who even seemed to worship me, especially since the Order attack on the library. I’d survived them again when so many others hadn’t, which they’d managed to spin as further evidence of my specialness, my exceptionalism. A little girl had a doll that looked like me and asked me to autograph it. The cognitive dissonance between me and the Sole Survivor was something I’d likely never get over, and in a way, I embraced it because I didn’t want to feel like this false idol they’d created of me. I only hoped I wouldn’t be here long enough for it to become my new normal.

“Fate’s watching out for you, Ms. Ainsley,” the little girl said, hugging her Claire-doll. “Or, that’s what my mom says.”

Or punishing me, depending on how you look at it. Nonetheless, I forced a smile at the girl’s mother, who stood at her side and looked at me with open admiration. They left soon after, and the next person in the receiving line was a man who made a creepy pass at me before Hamilton intervened and threw him out. Then another woman, more children, and on and on, down the receiving line.

Worn out by the sheer amount of greeting and handshaking, the faces soon blended together. It was why when a young, olive-skinned woman wearing a black dress approached me, I had no particular reaction. There was nothing to distinguish her from any other person I’d greeted that day.

“So good to meet you, Sole Survivor,” she said with a winning smile, and reached out to grab my hand with both of hers. In the midst of her handshake, I felt her press a small, rolled piece of paper into my palm.

“I’ve been waiting to deliver my well wishes to you,” she continued, still smiling, but her eyes held mine with a meaningful look. “A message for your continued good health and prosperity, on behalf of my family.”

I forced yet another smile and nodded graciously, even though my heart had sped up. I concealed the crumpled paper in my fist as she pulled away. “Thank you for your well wishes. Would you like an autograph?”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” the woman replied easily, waving me off. “We only wished to pay our respects. Take care of yourself, Claire Ainsley.”

She left without another word, and slowly, to avoid drawing attention to myself, I slipped my hand into the pocket of my dress and deposited the paper there. Then I waved Hamilton over.

“I’m suddenly not feeling very well,” I said, fanning myself.

“Do you need to go home?” Hamilton asked, and I hated that anyone would think of the cursed Mayor’s house as my home now. I took a breath and pictured Summerhurst before answering.

“I think that’d be best,” I replied, and he nodded without further questions, for which I was grateful. Hamilton may have been on the wrong side, but he did genuinely try to look after me for the most part.

It took some time to wind down the event and get me back to the house, but when I was finally alone in the master suite, I bolted the double doors and sat on the bed to read the note.

It was only a few lines.

C,

I’ve seen you onscreen with the Sire. If you’ve spent any time in his presence, perhaps you’re aware of his similarities to a prince we both know. That prince grows in power every day, gobbling up the secrets the Delta—and all places like it—have been keeping for longer than you know.