Brick huffed a sound that must have been a laugh. Nate couldn’t tell. Her hands were bloody, but she didn’t favor anything or limp, so he doubted the blood was hers. “Sparks has her. They went up high on a roof to get away from these sludge-eating fiends.”
Shaking and numb, Nate nodded. Every time he blinked, it was harder to keep his eyes open. “Can you get me free?”
Warm hands touched Nate’s face. His throat. His hair.
Nate’s ears rang.
He forced himself to focus when his mind wanted so badly to switch off for a while.
Kind green eyes studied him from beneath a furrowed brow.
“Reed.” It wasn’t until that moment that Nate let himself consider how badly he’d wanted Reed to come back and how much it had hurt to walk away from him. From all of them. From what they were.
His family.
He choked on a low sob. “My hands hurt.”
“Gods, what did she do to you? Hold on.”
“Nate, I wish you’d seen it. Reed made like a fiend and got these fools to listen to him. He knows the way they talk.” Brick pulled her knife out of the sheath she wore under her shirt and started scraping at the thick plastic binding Nate to the bed. “He told them the Breakers were hiding enough chem to fly to the moon and back with. Mountains of it for the taking. Crowd got bigger than we wanted, though.”
“Don’t worry him,” Reed said, working on Nate’s other wrist. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he glanced up at Nate as if he expected him to disappear at any moment. Brick nudged him to the side to use her knife. Reed’s breath caught, and he cupped Nate’s face. “Hang on.”
Nate watched them, dazed. “My shoulder,” he said, his tongue thick in his mouth.
“The trick’s getting it back in quick as you can, before you get swelled up,” Brick said. She paused, close. “Reed, he looks bad.”
Nate couldn’t get his arms to move at all once they were free. Reed and Brick eased him onto the floor, and he watched the ceiling spin slowly. Brick lifted his arm, Reed shoved something soft into his mouth, and the world exploded. He waited for darkness to take him away from the pain, but for once, his awareness lingered. Wave after wave of hurt crashed into him. Someone rolled him over. He vomited up water and soft bread.
“You look as bad as you did before,” Brick said. “I thought they were going to help you down here.”
“I’m not sick.” Nate grimaced at the mess on the floor that indicated otherwise. “You about pulled my arm off my body.”
“I didn’t pull it off; I put it back where it goes.”
Reed eased him up, and he moved his arm gingerly, surprised to find that while it throbbed, he could move it without blacking out. Or throwing up again.
Nate started to tell them, decisively, that this day could die in whirlpool of sludge, when he smelled smoke.
Reed stiffened beside him. “Let’s go.”
Flames caught the pant leg and boots of the body by the furnace, licking along the filthy fabric. Smoke curled, thick and smelly where flesh began to char and bubble.
Nate shrugged away from Reed. He pushed up with his good arm and approached the burning body.
“Nate!” Reed’s voice was raw. “What are you doing?”
The heat from the flames warmed Nate’s clammy skin. He held his sore arm against his belly so it wouldn’t dangle and make the relentless throb worse.
“Think he’s gone addled?” Brick asked.
Nate ignored them. The whole room narrowed down to one thing: the poker. Long and heavy. Strong. He plucked it off the body, gaze momentarily snagging on the wreck of the man’s skull. Someone had done this—torn this man apart. For chem. For a few days—maybe a few hours—of flying.
He lifted the poker, dodging the growing flames, and approached the still. The metal flickered with firelight. He caught his warped reflection.
“Nate.” Reed was behind him, skirting the heat of the flames. “Nate, come on. We need to get out of here.”
Nate opened the delicate latch and exposed the fine glass inside. His arm protested, the pain lancing down his side. He stroked the smooth surface with trembling, bloody fingers. So many intricate pieces. Priceless Gathos City tech. Tinkering beyond his comprehension.
