“Now we run like hell!” Cole takes my arm and leads me.
I grab Grace at the same time and force her to follow me. Tracers light up the sky around me, illuminating the labyrinth of the Hole. Frameless windows stare back at me with black, abandoned faces. I’m afraid. More than I thought I would be. I see the silhouettes of figures on the rooftops amidst the battle, their heat signatures making them targets for any trained sniper. The whole convoy’s been broken up. Vehicles have stopped in the middle of the street, car doors open, abandoned. People are running everywhere, diving for cover. Screams and cries reverberate off the walls of the buildings. My heart rate is off the charts as adrenaline flows to every inch of my body, and I sprint after Cole.
He crosses to the side of the street. I stumble, fall onto my knees, and quickly get back up. But only after I spot a small, broken flag from one of the vehicles lying in the road. I grab it. The red and white are covered in dirt. It’s weird the things that strike you as important in the middle of a fight.
“Come on!” Grace shouts at me. She grabs my wrist, and we run together.
We’re hoofing it down an alley, weaving through broken glass and the remains of overturned and broken furniture. I hear a deluge of shooting behind us, some hammering automatic fire and some more carefully chosen. Pock! Pock! Pock!
I imagine it hitting my heels. My breaths come fast. I let go of Grace and climb over a pile of old tires. My nose wrinkles when I smell the burned, charred rubber mixed with gun smoke. I struggle to hold it in, but the heavy air settles on me, and soon I’m heaving alongside a cracked, cement wall.
“Go! Go!” Cole yells to Grace and Bruno. He turns and grabs my elbow. “Lexi. We gotta go.” I wipe my face on my sleeve and run with him, dizzy and on borrowed time.
The maze feels never-ending. Pretty soon, the battle sounds muted, like they weren’t gunning for us. I can’t relax though. My shoulders tense up, and my jaws hurt from clenching. I finally catch up with Bruno, Grace, and Zeus. They’ve stopped in a row alongside a familiar-looking building while Bruno surveys the street in front of us. Grace bends over and places her hands on her knees, panting. Bruno checks her for injuries, and when he sees she’s okay, plants a kiss on her nose. I can see the love she holds for him mirrored in her eyes.
“Come on, you guys. We gotta keep moving,” Bruno says. We barely catch our breath before Bruno takes off again. His colossal figure runs across the street and around the corner. Cole and Zeus follow closely behind, and it’s my turn.
I buy myself some time, still suffering from the lack of water and oppressive humidity. I pat Grace’s shoulder and nod for her to go before me. I mentally prepare myself for the energy it will take to make this next run. I don’t have it. As I make an effort to move one foot in front of the other, it dawns on me.
Squinting in the dark, I lay eyes on it—rising from the ground, rusty old fence strewn into the street, the guard checkpoint half-manned.
My old building.
My eyes are drawn up the building, stopping only to focus on the windowless frame of my old quarters. “Quarters” sounds as if I had a say in the matter, like I wasn’t dragged from my home, branded, brought here, and kept under twenty-four hour surveillance.
It feels like it was forever ago that I lived there. Yet, here I am, back by my own choice, only three months after escaping. My hands clench, and my jaw tightens. I didn’t think it was possible for things to be even worse than they were when I was held captive here. But now, Sutton has been kidnapped, and the monitors have been slaughtered. Wilson is an animal, worse than any other Commander in history.
My body feels lead-heavy and weighted down. The only hope we had has just been completely destroyed. I rub my eyes. Crying won’t do me any good.
The black scarring of bombs and destruction left by bullets is evident, even at night. The courtyard outside the building no longer teems with Sinners bartering goods. Hairs prickle up on my arms. The guard checkpoint booth remains, but it’s empty. The barriers still form a narrow pathway for oncoming cars, and the spotlights mounted above the checkpoint have yet to be turned on.
My heart rate picks up as I dart across the street. No matter how hard I try to keep my mind in the present, the flood of memories from a few months ago comes rushing in. Alyssa was still alive. Keegan, who fought to free us, didn’t make it out alive. And Sutton. Oh God. Sutton. What will Wilson do to him? I shrug away fear and doubt. If we give up, or if we die … who will save Sutton?