And I take off.
My heels slam into the dirt, the sound of fighting breaking out behind me as I race down the corridor away from them.
Don’t look back.
Whoever Hatter truly is – and Buck – they’re mixed up with this place. Buried deeply inside it, entangled in the darkness underneath Wonder.
And I’m one person, with a suddenly strong emerging sense of self-fucking-preservation even as my breathing turns harsh and gasping.
At least Chess would be pleased about that one.
Their muffled shouting echoes back to me. A beat echoes, heavy pounding footsteps a half-second behind my own eating up the space between me andthem.
I don’t look back. Whoever it is, they’re not friendly.
Glimpsing a doorway, I veer right into an open, dirty space. Empty shipping containers lay on their sides, smashed and broken, white plastic sheeting hanging from the ceiling as I dart between, searching.
Buck mentioned a window – a broken window.
My eyes frantically scan the far wall.
There.
It’s out of reach above my head, a small space – possibly too fucking small - showing the dark night sky outside. Running for one of the containers, I throw my shoulder into it, pushing it over by several inches before I leap. The toes of my shoes dig into the rotting wood, splinters burying into my palms as I scramble up the side.
A hand scrapes at my foot, and I kick at it blindly. My heel connects with something solid, and the man stumbles back with a cursed grunt.
Keep going. Don’t stop.
My ragged breathing is the only sound I make as I haul myself up, my foot swinging over onto the top of the container before I roll onto my back.
Get up.
The sob catches in my chest - because that voice sounds impossibly and perfectly likeAdam, urgent and panicked as I reach for that window—
Too high.
It’s still too fucking high, and the sob breaks free in my chest as I jump. A sharp sting slices across my palm.
Help me.
I jump for it again before I back up, crouching my knees and running for the wall. I used to do the same as a child, run up against anything tall and use my own momentum to climb. But it’s been a long time since we played those games.
Do that, Lyss. Do it now.
They’re on the container now, pulling themselves up as I take a breath.
And I throw myself forward. My hands and feet slam into the rusty steel exposed foundations of the building as I pullup, sweat prickling at my neck.
My fingers grip the windowsill. I haul up,up, my fist punching into the shards of glass poking out from the frame, stopping me from exiting.
Exhaling, I pull myself through, glass slicing at my dress as fresh air kisses my sweat-soaked forehead—
Hands.
Hands grip my legs, my waist, wrapping around and yanking me back down. The glimpse of freedom disappears as I struggle against their grip, bucking and scratching. “Get the fuck off me!”
A fist slams into my stomach without holding back. I double over, vomit rising up my throat and cutting off my scream.
