That’s what Sabrina’s looking at on the tablet.
The huge screen is suspended from the ceiling, and I feel my way behind it with my hands on the wall, and Hunter’s hands still around my waist, his body pressed close to mine. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t slow, doesn’t even give me a what-the-hell squeeze. He just lets me steer.
My fingers find the fine seam where the door used to be, and I sweep slowly with my hands until I find the handle. They’re going to hear when I open it, so we’ll have just one chance.
I reach for where Hunter’s hand rests at my waist and tap my fingers against it. First one, then two, then three. A countdown.A quick squeeze lets me know he understands – or at least, I hope that’s what he’s saying.
I give him the countdown again: one, two, three.
On the third tap, I open the door and step through it, pulling him with me.
‘There!’ someone shouts, and a bullet pierces the screen, sending shuddering ripples through it.
I slam the door shut, turning in Hunter’s arms and groping at his face in the darkness, until I find the headset tucked behind his ear. I rip if off, dropping it to the ground and stomping hard.
‘Cleo?’ he whispers, still holding me tight – it’s just as black in here as it was out there.
‘They were tracking it,’ I whisper back. ‘Keep hold of me. I know the way through here.’
‘Go,’ he says simply, hands tightening at my waist as I turn away.
It’s not even an emergency hallway – it’s just a gap between two sections of the base, no wider than my body in some places. They design the sections to seal off from each other, so a breach in one leaves the others intact, but nobody’s meant to come through here. These passageways have been a useful place to camp out, or even to sleep. They’re also free of obstacles, which means I can jog, my hands trailing along each wall, waiting until I feel the seam I’m looking for.
The floor dips as we pass underneath the ring corridor that circles the base, then climbs again. We move for nearly a minute in silence before we find the place I want, and Hunterpresses into the back of me when I suddenly stop. I feel for the inside release I installed about a month ago, then flick open the door.
My eyes swim with tears as we step into the small storage room off the main shower facility, where they keep all the spare towels, the cleaning supplies.
Hunter follows me, and I hear his intake of breath behind me as we suddenly step into the light. It’s not bright, but it’s dazzling after so long in the dark.
His hands slide from where they rest at my waist to wrap around my middle, pulling me back against him. Now it’s my turn to go where he steers, and I turn my head so I can press my cheek to his chest. I feel his heart thumping there, quick but steady.Alive, it says.Alive, alive, alive.
He’s silent, and I fold an arm over his, so he doesn’t let go. Just for a minute, I let myself lean on him. I let us share this moment of sheer relief that we got away, that we’re together, that he’s here and warm and strong and sharing the load of getting through this.
You could have left him, whispers a little voice. She’s the one who looks out for me, mostly.You would have been safer if you’d left him behind. But it didn’t even occur to you.
Shut up, I whisper back, in the silence of my head.
And then I pull myself together.
‘They’ll find a light source eventually,’ I say, my voice sounding loud, even though I’m only murmuring the words. ‘And then they might find the door behind the screen. We should keep moving.’
‘Right,’ he says, his voice low in my ear. But he doesn’t let go for a moment longer. Then he uncurls his arms from around me and steps back. ‘Let’s head to the greenhouse. We need the terminal there. If they’re using the cameras, we need them too.’
Four hours to go.Tick, tock.
16.
HUNTER
4 HOURS REMAINING
ISETTLE INTO MYold friend Susanna’s chair in the greenhouse, and let out a slow, shaky breath as I log in to her daisy-adorned console. The door to the greenhouse is zip-tied shut, and we’re confident we got here without the cameras clocking us.
I glance across as Cleo adjusts her headset. ‘You’resurethat thing can’t be traced?’ I ask again.
‘Positive,’ she replies. ‘I know you’re the software guy, but this was a hardware fix. I modded it as a project a few months ago. Took out its locator chip – took me forever to pull it apart then put it back together again.’
‘And you did this why?’
