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ask.
    â€œGetting you familiar with the transportation,” he says. “Today is a fun day.”
    I doubt that. My father’s idea of fun doesn’t ever match up with mine.
    When we enter the jungle, we pass by a young woman who cradles her swollen belly. She asks us for food, and my father waves her away.
    The city looks exactly the same as it did a few days ago. Children laugh and cry, Initiative officers shout orders to the citizens. A body lies in the street, not far from the trees, and the crowd parts to avoid it. Seagulls swoop down from overhead and gnats are everywhere, drawn by the smell of the dead. The train rattles past.
    â€œStay close,” my father says.
    We blend into the crowd. We go left, towards the Library. I think I see our old apartment building in the distance, but the crowd moves to the right and I lose sight of it.
    We stop at the tracks. “Your brother proved he could at least hop a train,” says my father.
    â€œHe proved he was human,” I say. “He proved he didn’t want to kill someone else.”
    My father shakes his head. “You’re young, Meadow. You don’t understand yet. But you won’t become like Koi. You’ll survive, like me. You’ll survive because it’s in your blood.”
    There’s a whistle in the distance. People start pushing and shoving, trying to get closer to the tracks. The ground rumbles, and I see the train heading towards us, smoke rising from its metal top.
    â€œYou have to run with it!” My father yells. “Reach your arms out, and when it comes, don’t hesitate.”
    I nod.
    â€œStart running now!”
    The train sweeps by. I run on the balls of my feet, as fast as I can, the way Koi did. I can feel the wind blow back my curls, feel the vibration in my toes. I reach, get ready to leap . . .
    A body slams me aside, knocking me off course, as a man jumps inside the train car. I fall down and there are feet everywhere, crushing me. I try to stand but I can’t move. I’m trapped. I cry out, but my voice is lost.
    Hands find me and haul me to my feet.
    My father. “You hesitated. I told you not to.”
    â€œIt wasn’t my fault, someone pushed me!”
    â€œSomeone will always push you. You have to fight for your spot. Try it again.”
    We wait for a long time until the train comes back again. This time, I can sense the eagerness. The way everyone seems to lean forward as one. There has to be an easier way to do this. I look at my father.
    â€œFigure it out on your own,” he says.
    I step back, away from the crowd, so they can push and shove and fight it out. The train sweeps by, the chaos begins. I wait, counting the seconds, until the last car rushes past, and those who didn’t make it, who are still standing, give up.
    I turn and chase it. I run as fast as I can. There’s a ladder on the back. I jump, grab onto the railing, and hold on tight.
    I turn and see my father smile.

Chapter 16
    W hen I make it back to my father, he teaches me that anything and everything can be used as a weapon.
    An old pipe, leaning up against the side of a building. A glass bottle with a jagged, broken edge. He points out every alley in the city center, shows me where they lead, and tells me the fastest routes back to the beach.
    We pass by a girl my age, half-dead in an alley.
    He kneels and whispers something to her.
    â€œYes.” It is such a struggle for her to speak, tears in her eyes, blood on her lips.
    My father uses his dagger to finish her off. He stands, wipes the blood from it, and faces me. And I understand. Sometimes killing means showing mercy. I wonder how many people have passed by the dying girl, too afraid to save her from her misery. My father nods at me. “We train so that will never be you.”
    â€œI understand.” We have choices. We can die, or we can choose to fight so that we may live.
    We move on, and he leads me to the Library.