"Ew. Is that what we look like when we're making out?"

"No way, babe. It's much hotter when it's us."

It takes effort to pull away from Justus, but I do. Alison and Tupac have found our hiding spot, and they watch us with twin expressions of distaste.

"Find your own corner," Justus mutters, his eyes never leaving mine.

Before he can kiss me again, Alison grabs my hand and tugs me away. "Save it for after the premiere. Right now, we're working. It's just as important for us to stay in character tonight as it is when we're filming."

I know she's right, even though my body wants to drag Justus into an empty room and finish what we started.

Justus looks like he still wants to argue, but Tupac jostles his shoulder to get his attention. "This is bigger than the two of you. A lot is riding on this, remember?"

"Got it," Justus says, giving my hand one last squeeze.

A soft chime interrupts our conversation, indicating that it's time for us to take our seats. Wilde strategically assigned us to seats near influential people, and we are supposed to make as many connections tonight as possible.

I'm on an upper balcony, seated by Governor Woods. E and I are already on good terms, but Sun thought it would be good for the two of us to be seen together to show that our state government is on good terms with our cause. Wilde also pointed out that I wouldn't accidentally piss anyone new off this way, either.

E is already seated when I find my assigned row, and she immediately introduces me to her chief strategist, policy officer, and crisis coordinator. Before we have any kind of serious conversation, the lights dim and a spotlight hits the stage.

To my surprise, it's Sun, not Wilde, who steps into the light. "Welcome. I'm Sun Liu, the co-director of Just Like Us. This show was born from hope—hope that I didn't know if I would ever feel again after Day Zero. That day, I was sure that nothing good could ever come from so much hate and violence.

"For weeks, all of us—Evolved and Throwback—mourned our friends, and the loss of a vision for our city and our country that was founded on justice. As for me, I wanted revenge. I'm not sure I have ever felt so angry or helpless. As I do at my lowest moments, I re-read the text that the original of my clone type is known for—The Art of War. I was looking for a strategy to strike back against all that we had endured.

"Instead, I found a passage that I had always overlooked. He said, 'The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.' That is what we aim to do tonight. Let us subdue the hate without violence, and remember how alike we all are, if we can only take the time to see it."

The light goes out, and before the audience can react to Sun's words, the pilot of Just Like Us begins. I've watched a few scenes when they were being edited, but this is the first time I've seen an episode from beginning to end.

When I read the script, the lines often seemed cheesy and forced. I expected to cringe my way through tonight. But the reality of watching the finished show is a revelation. I expected a cheesy sitcom, but instead it's a real look at life in Seattle for Throwbacks. Threaded through the lives of our characters, there are scenes filmed in real Throwback spaces—dilapidated housing, the overrun hospital, and the rooms in the Lab where homeless Throwback kids lived on the scraps they could find or steal.

All of these spaces aren't shown to spark pity—they are simply a reality for our characters, the places where daily lives are lived. Next to me, E grips her seat with white knuckles.

"The hospital isn't that bad, is it? I visited two years ago and it seemed well staffed, if a bit outdated," she whispers to me.

"They must have put on a show for you," I mutter back. "I was there a few days ago and people were so crammed in they had to stand."

Next to E, her chief strategist has his fist pressed to his mouth as he watches a scene where Justus and I deliver food to Mav and his friends in their old sleeping quarters in the Lab. In reality, we've found homes for most of these kids, either through Harriet's new foster program or at least a bed at the Chrysalis, but for most of the country, scenes like this are common.

I scan the theater and see that everyone is riveted to the story on the screen. Evolved and Throwbacks alike lean forward in their seats, and there is none of the usual chatter that you hear during a screening.

The final scene is one of hope. I remember the day we filmed it. Justus and I are in the clinic, using the Annex to disable the chips of a long line Throwbacks. The scene gets a few laughs as Justus and I compete to disable the most chips, and I'm stuck with a particularly grumpy old Mac. Wilde certainly pulled from personal experience for this scene.

But the final shot is of Justus, watching me as I work. The love and longing in his gaze is unmistakable. I brush away a tear as I watch, knowing that someday soon I'm going to break his heart, whether I want to or not.

The credits start to roll. Before I can turn to E to ask her what she thought, a hissing sound fills the theater. Muttering turns to yelling as everyone notices a white gas coming from the vents near the ceiling. With it comes a cloying smell, like rotting fruit.

The dark screen suddenly lights up with a message.

If you're reading this, Throwbacks, then the H2IV virus in your blood is now active. Never forget—your lives are fragile and disposable. Throwbacks who forget their place don't deserve to live.

Keep Seattle Evolved

For a second, there is stunned silence that is swiftly broken with shouts of terror and rage. People cover their nose and mouths with their shirts or scarves. Then the shoving starts, and everyone pushes their way toward the exits.

My throat swallows convulsively and as a frozen numbness washes over me. Memories of Day Zero, of Throwbacks moaning and crying and dying, push their way into my mind.

"Joan Fasces, pull yourself together," E says, shaking both of my shoulders.

Her three colleagues have all abandoned her, pushing their way toward the stairs that lead down and out of the theater. Amid all the chaos, her expression is firm and controlled.

"We are getting out of here. Right now," she says.

Some distant part of my mind knows that it should be me escorting E to safety. She's the governor, and much older and more fragile than I am. But my usual confidence in moments of panic has deserted me.

"Everyone here is going to die. I only have so many antidotes left. Not enough to buy them all more than a week," I say, my voice hoarse.

"We're not giving up that easily," she replies, pointing down at the stage.

Harriet is standing with Sun and Marie near the screen, which still shows those horrible, hate-filled words. Marie has her laptop open, and cool air blasts through the theater. She's accessed the environmental control settings for the theater and has turned the air conditioning on as high as it will go. It might dissipate the gas enough to save some of the people in the theater, maybe those nearest the exits.

But it's too late for my friends. My fate is now theirs. A choked sound leaves my mouth, and I can't breathe.

"None of you are alone in this," E says. "If those words are true, I will direct every resource to get you help. I'll get a court order to force Strand to release the formula for their antidote. Hope is not lost, Joan. But you need to get out of here with me. Now."

She all but drags me toward the stairs leading downstairs, and I let her tug me along.

At the bottom, I see that Justus and Kat are doing their best to get the Throwbacks in the crowd out as quickly as possible. Under their instructions, the Evolved clear a path so that Throwbacks have a chance of escaping the gas that will activate their H2IV. If this moment wasn't so terrifying, I might see a sliver of hope in the way that the Evolved put their own fear aside to help the Throwbacks among them.

E is already on her phone, calling someone and demanding that they meet her at her office immediately. She ushers me toward the door, and Justus grabs my hand when I'm close enough.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," I say incoherently, falling into his arms.

Justus pulls me out into the fresh air and pushes my hair out of my face. He brushes away my tears with his thumbs.

"None of this is your fault," he says.

"Lexi's punishing me. I should have gone with her from the beginning and all this could have been prevented."

"You don't know that, love. We don't even know that it's Strand who did this," Justus says, tucking my head against his chest.

A vision hits me like a punch.

Seattle's Throwback hospital is overrun with so many patients that they spill out the doors and onto the sidewalks outside the emergency room. There are children with bleeding gums, men and women coughing up blood, and several people who are so still that I know they are dead.

There are so many more here than those infected in the theater. H2IV has spread, and judging by the scene in front of me, it's leaving a devastating death toll in its wake.

This is what's at stake. You know what you have to do.

And I do know. It's up to me to save them all—or die trying.