I climb down the ladder, heart hammering, counting each rung. Down in the shaft, it’s silent except for my ragged breathing. I find the hatch, jam the screwdriver in, and force it open. The passage beyond is pitch-black, damp, and so tight I can barely crawl. I hear nothing from Jace, just my own heartbeat.
I squeeze through, scraping my elbows, thinking at any second a flashlight beam will stab down and catch me. The minutes stretch. I keep crawling.
At last, a whisper—Jace, on the other side of the vent. He’s been waiting, maybe for hours, cramped and alone. I work the screws as quietly as I can, sweat freezing on my skin. The vent finally pops free, and Jace slides into the tunnel, pale and exhausted but alive. We crawl out, but even being out in the yard brings little respite. We might get caught any second.
Jace and I crouch in the freezing dark behind the maintenance sheds, breaths fogging in the night air, hearts jackhammering in our chests. The air stings my lungs. Sweat chills instantly on my skin. My knees are mud-soaked, and every sound makes me flinch.
Jace keeps glancing over his shoulder, eyes wild, whispering, “He should be here by now, Levi.” His voice is tight, urgent. “We have to go. If we stay, we’re screwed.”
But I shake my head, jaw locked. “We’re not leaving without him.”
I press myself against the back wall of the shed, scanning the shadows and the fence, counting the seconds as if I can slow time itself.
Jace paces a few steps, rubbing his arms for warmth, his boots squelching in the mud. “Levi, come on. They’ll discoverthat we’re gone any minute. We’re so close, man. We can’t blow it now.”
I can’t look at him. I keep my eyes fixed on the path from admin, praying, bargaining with every god I never believed in,just let him make it, just let him appear. The silence grows heavier, wrapping around us, squeezing every thought from my mind except one:I am not leaving my brother.
The minutes stretch. The yard seems to hold its breath. Every little noise—the creak of the fence, the scuff of a rat in the trash—makes my heart stutter. Still no sign of Nico. My hope starts to fray. I picture him caught by guards, locked in a cell, or worse, hurt and bleeding in some dark hallway. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
“I’m not leaving without him,” I say. My voice sounds hoarse. Nico’s my twin. Half of me. I’d rather get caught than leave him in there.
Jace curses under his breath, crawling to the other side of the shed, checking the path.
It’s so quiet for so long that I almost give up hope. Then, just as I start to move—just as Jace grabs my arm to pull me away—the sirens start. Not just any alarm, but the blaring, gut-deep one that means an escape. Searchlights sweep out over the yard, guards start shouting. The entire prison is alive, frantic, hunting.
Jace pulls at me. “Levi, now, we have to?—”
But I rip my arm free. “Not without Nico!”
That’s when I see him—my brother, my mirror, sprinting out of the dark between two dumpsters. He’s running flat out, hair wild, blood on his sleeve. He looks at me and I see the terror and relief in his face, the same mix I feel. The lights catch him, and for a split second the whole yard is lit up—guards yelling, a gunshot echoing out over the wall. Nico dives behind the shed, chest heaving. “Go, go, go!” he gasps.
We don’t wait. All three of us scramble along the fence line, ducking low, hearts in our throats. My legs are jelly, fear chasing me as hard as the guards do. Every step feels like it will be my last.
Floodlights sweep over us. For a moment, we freeze—caught in a cone of white.
I grip Nico’s wrist so tight I’ll bruise him, but I don’t care. We’re so close. So close. A few feet away, the fence looms over us.
Wait, this isn’t the way we had planned to come out. There’s no opening here. I want to scream, I want to turn to the others, but stopping isn’t the alternative here.
Behind us, shouts ring out. They’re closing in on us. “Stop! Don’t move!” My blood goes ice-cold.It’s over, it’s over, I think, just as?—
Headlights slice through the dark. A van, engine revving, comes barreling toward us from the side service road. It’s Carrie at the wheel, her face pale, eyes wild and fierce.
“Get in!” she yells. The van barely stops as Jace throws open the side door. I shove Nico in, clamber after, and Jace leaps in last, slamming the door behind us. I barely register Carrie’s voice, breathless and determined: “Hold on!”
She guns the engine, spinning the tires, mud spraying the guard shack. The van jolts forward, bouncing over potholes, headlights swinging wildly. A guard throws himself at the window, baton raised, but Carrie swerves, the van scraping past the edge of the gate, nearly taking off the side mirror.
A shot rings out, glass spiderwebbing at the back window. “Down!” Nico yells, pulling me to the floor. My head smacks the wheel well, but I don’t care. All I can hear is my own blood roaring, the slap of boots and the blare of alarms behind us.
Carrie’s hands are locked on the wheel, jaw clenched, driving like her life depends on it—because it does, and so do ours. The van careens through the outer gate, crunching over the curb andfishtailing into the street. I can see guards spilling onto the road in the rearview, waving flashlights, radios squawking, but the van is already accelerating, every bump rattling my bones.
Jace is panting, half laughing, half sobbing, gripping the seat so hard his knuckles are white. Nico is still on the floor, bleeding from his arm, staring up at the ceiling like he can’t believe he’s alive. I reach over and grip his shoulder, not sure who’s shaking more—me or him.
Carrie doesn’t look back. She throws the van into third, running a red light, horns blaring as we blow through the first intersection. For a moment, we’re flying—untouchable, nothing but the sound of the wind and the engine and our ragged, terrified breaths.
Then, finally, Carrie glances over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror, wide and shining with tears and adrenaline. “Everyone here?”
Jace coughs, voice shaky. “We’re here. We’re good.”
