This is my fault.
He’d gone up on the trains and gotten hurt. He’d walked home from Alden’s in a daze, too lost in his own head and muffled from medicine to make sure he wasn’t being tailed.
“Think on it later,” Brick said with a hiss, holding him steady when he swayed.
Nate took a gasping breath and nodded. “Where are we going? The basement on 30th?”
“Until we can settle.” Brick let go of him. “Sparks knows a decent place in the bank.”
“The bank?” So far, they’d avoided relying on squatting in the biggest abandoned building in the Withers. The bank meant more prying eyes—more people who would want to sell him to the Breakers if they found out what he was—and gangs that did far more than scavenge to survive.
The only good thing about the bank was its size. It was big enough to disappear in, and the Breakers hadn’t managed to infiltrate it the way they’d taken over other neighborhoods across the Withers.
“You heard me.” Brick gave Nate a long look that didn’t leave room for argument. Her pale cheeks were flushed a splotchy pink, and sweat matted her hair.
Nate had no right to argue when they’d been out there, running. When he’d caused this.
Nate filled a backpack with every glinting bit of scrap wire and tech he could get his hands on. He ignored the bustle and panic around him and the rush of his own thundering heartbeat. They had to move before the sun came up, or they’d be too exposed. Night, tar-black from electricity rationing, would help them dodge hungry trappers. They weren’t a fighting gang. Even with Brick’s and Reed’s muscle, the group was too small, and no one carried anything deadlier than a hand blade. One or two trappers with stun guns, and they’d be split up and sold off.
Pixel grabbed the hem of his shirt and followed him like a sniffling shadow.
He swatted at her hand. “Hush that crying.” Snapping at her sent regret lancing through him, but if she was too scared to pack up, she had to stay quiet.
“I don’t mean to,” Pixel said. “I don’t want to go.”
“I know, Pix. You stay close to me now.” He forced softness into his voice. “We’ll get everybody tucked up safe, okay? Just like home again.”
Nate caught Reed glancing at him, his expression stricken. He probably hated lying to Pixel as much as Nate did. Over the past year, they’d never stayed in a hideout long enough to call it home. But it didn’t stop them from settling in, from trying.
Pixel wiped her face and nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on Nate as he worked fast, stubbing his fingers and tearing his fingernails. He strapped on his belt and reached for one tool after another, swiftly snipping and tweezing the wires out of the security system he hadn’t finished installing.
“Three minutes!” Reed called out. “Move it.”
Nate stumbled, caught by Reed’s strong grip at his elbow. He flinched, mind racing to figure out what he’d done wrong.
“Here,” Reed said. He pressed the pendant he’d saved for Pixel into Nate’s hand. “Hang on to this. If something happens, sell it to keep her fed. Do you understand?”
“Nothing’s going to happen.” Nate’s chest went hollow. “Reed—”
But Reed dashed to help Brick pry the stove from its makeshift mooring, leaving Nate clutching the cold silver. He pushed it deep into his pocket and kept packing things up. The emptiness lingered, an ache of fear he couldn’t shake.
Over time, they’d managed to collect enough scraps of canvas and cloth for Sparks to sew duffels and backpacks. They stuffed each bag with bedding and spare clothes and bowls and the ticker and a few more odds and ends.
The lumpy pile of bags didn’t look like much.
It was everything they had.
Reed and Brick divvied the heaviest items up. “I’ve got the burner,” Brick said, hefting their portable stove under a freckled arm. Reed grabbed the food and utensils, and Sparks strapped a bulky bag of bedding to her back. Nate carried their remaining tech in his backpack and in his pockets and tool belt.
Reed studied their ranks as they lined up, packed and ready to run. Nate fell into line last and nudged Pixel into place. He met Reed’s eye and nodded, chest tight with nervous energy. Reed’s face gleamed, and every soft line in him had gone hard.
“Nate will run with Sparks and Pix,” Reed said. “I’ll take Brick. Thirtieth Avenue basement. Does everyone understand?”
Sparks adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Got it.”
“Yes,” Brick said loudly. She gave Nate a pointed look.
“I understand,” Nate said, directing it to her. He’d nodded—it wasn’t a contest.
