“Why do you keep calling me that?” I ask, gathering myself as I help Mikey to his feet. We sprint to catch up with Pete and Bella.
“Keep calling you what?” he replies, obviously toying with me.
“Immune. Aren’t you and Bella Immunes, too?”
Bella wrinkles her nose, as if the suggestion has left a bitter taste in her mouth. “No way. We’re Lost Kids.”
“Lost whats?” Mikey asks, letting go of my hand and staggering alongside Pete.
Pete whirls around. “A Lost Kid. A member of the Lost City. Can we move on now?”
“But you’re still an Immune, aren’t you? What, precisely, is the difference?” I ask.
“The difference is precisely this: Lost Kids never get caught,” Pete says, standing a little taller. He spins, walking backward, and points a finger at me. “Immunes, on the other hand, eventually end up as one of Hook’s lab rats.” Pete turns and continues marching up the street. “Without Bella and me, you’d be in Hook’s lab as we speak.”
I roll my eyes. “This is ridiculous,” I mutter.
“I don’t want to get caught,” Mikey says, scurrying in front of Pete. “I want to be a Lost Kid like you and Bella.”
Pete stops and crouches. “Well, there you go,” he says, giving Mikey a gentle tap on the nose. “You’re well on your way to being a Lost Boy. Stick with me, kid, and you will be a Lost Boy in no time. In fact …” Pete unsheathes his dagger and taps each of Mikey’s shoulders with the flat surface of the blade. “I dub you, Mikey, Lost Boy in training.” He turns the knife and offers the ornate hilt to my little brother.
Mikey’s mouth gapes as he reaches for the chrome dagger. I snatch it from his hand and give it back to Pete. Mikey scowls, but it quickly fades. He throws his bear into the air, catches it, and dances around in circles. “I’m going to be a Lost Boy!” he sings.
Bella blows a breath through puffed cheeks and flicks the lever on her rocket pack. Her wings flutter slower and she glides to the ground. “Did you have to go and make him a trainee?”
“You are completely mad.” I throw my rucksack over my shoulder and stomp off, irritated with his nonsensical talk.
“Hey, wait,” Pete says. He runs next to me.
I trudge forward, unwilling to stop. “What? Now that you’ve knighted my brother, are you going to tell me you can fly, too?” I gesture to Bella, who folds her arms and narrows her eyes.
He drapes an arm over my shoulders. “Maybe I can.”
I shrug off his arm and march away from him.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he says.
Whirling around, I stare at the boy. “What now?” I ask, annoyed.
“You,” he says, stepping closer to me and poking a finger into my shoulder, “are still an Immune.”
Before I can retort, deep, metallic voices resound from the buildings nearby. Pete shoves me behind a smelly shrub, and Bella and Mikey race after us. I glance around the edge of the bush, careful not to touch the leaves. A group of Marauders hurries up the street. They shout orders through their gas masks, their words indecipherable from this far away. My stomach rolls as I watch one soldier drag a dead body from a building by a laced boot. Empathy settles over me as the soldiers joke about her pink knickers peeking out from her ripped skirt. I am glad she is no longer alive to face the embarrassment of their crude comments.
The soldier lifts a manhole cover, and she is rolled into the sewer by the heel of his boot.
“Lunchtime,” the soldier shouts into the hole.
I swallow back the urge to vomit. My throat is dry and my hands tremble. I have no idea what the soldier meant, but I’m terrified to entertain the thought. I pull Mikey close. “What are we going to do?”
“We need to split up,” Pete says, peeking through the bush. “Bella, take Mikey. Meet us at Beckton Station.”
Bella nods, pulls her slingshot from her belt, and grips Mikey’s hand. He doesn’t resist, but his bottom lip quivers.
I brush Mikey behind me. “No! I’m not leaving him.”
“We are going to distract those soldiers. Mikey is too little to outrun them,” Pete explains with quick, quiet words. “You and I have the best chance of evading them, and Bella knows every hiding spot from here to the first tunnel entrance. It’s our best option.”
“I want to come with you,” Mikey whines into the fur of his bear.
Placing a finger against his pink lips, I shush him. The twigs of the bush scratch my cheek as I peer through the maze of branches. Hook’s men search the empty, run-down buildings with their weapons drawn, sunlight reflecting in the metal gleam of their guns. One soldier breaks a window with the butt of his gun and kicks at the remaining shards, sending glass tinkling onto the concrete. He raises the weapon, looking through the brass scope mounted on top before stepping through the gaping hole.