They emerged on the first floor, and Ben could hear activity now — guards shouting to each other, flashlights cutting through the darkness as security teams tried to restore order. Morse pulled him into a storage alcove as two guards jogged past, their radios crackling with static that suggested Sidney’s interference was affecting communications as well as power.
“Hargrove said eight minutes,” Ben whispered once the guards passed.
“Hargrove’s eight minutes started when the power failed. We lost time finding you.” Rebecca checked the corridor and gestured him forward. “The service exit is close. Fifty yards, one turn.”
They made it maybe thirty yards before the emergency lighting flickered to life.
Not full power yet — the overhead lights remained dark — but the emergency systems were activating, filling the corridors with a dim red glow. Ben heard more shouting, closer now. The facility’s security teams coordinating and responding to what they probably thought was a simple power failure rather than an infiltration.
“Damn it,” Rebecca breathed. “Sidney’s interference just failed. We’re out of time.”
Ben wasn’t about to give up, not when they were so close. “Then we’ll run.”
They sprinted the remaining distance, Rebecca in the lead. The service exit appeared ahead, a heavy steel door marked with emergency signage. She hit the crash bar and shoved it open, and they emerged into cold night air and darkness.
Flashlights swept across the perimeter while voices shouted conflicting orders. Ben spotted armed guards converging on the main entrance, probably responding to whatever alarm Sidney’s failed interference had triggered.
“Treeline,” Rebecca said. “Fifty yards north. Sidney’s waiting there.”
They ran again, crossing open ground that felt impossibly exposed. Ben expected shouts or weapons fire, tactical teams emerging from the darkness to drag them back. But the facility’s security seemed focused on the main entrance rather than the service exit. Hargrove’s sabotage had worked exactly as promised, creating confusion in the crucial minutes of their escape.
They reached the trees, and Ben nearly collided with Sidney in the darkness.
She was on her knees in the undergrowth, both hands pressed against her temples, blood streaming from her nose in a thick flow. Even in the faint emergency light from the facility, Ben could see she was trembling violently. Her arms bore marks he’d never seen before — dark patches that looked almost like burns, but with an iridescent quality that suggested something far worse than simple heat damage.
“Sidney.” He dropped beside her, his hands hovering over her shoulders, afraid to touch her in case it caused more pain. “Sidney, I’m here. We made it.”
Her eyes opened slowly, their pupils dilated and unfocused. When they found his face, something in her expression crumbled. It wasn’t relief he saw there, but the desperate recognition of someone who’d been holding themselves together through sheer force of will and had just run out of strength.
“Ben,” she whispered. Then she pitched forward, and he caught her.
She weighed almost nothing in his arms. Her body felt far too light, too fragile. Through the strange electromagnetic bond that connected them — fainter than it should have been, muted in a way that terrified him — Ben could feel the extent of her depletion. She’d pushed past every safe limit, had burned through power reserves that should have taken days to recover, and had kept going anyway because he’d needed her to.
“I’ve got you,” he said, pulling her close. “You’re okay. We’re both okay.”
Sidney made a sound that might have been agreement or might have been a sob. Her face pressed against his shoulder, and he felt blood from her nose soaking into his shirt. The dimensional burns on her arms looked worse up close — not just surface damage, but something that went deeper, affecting the tissue underneath.
Permanent scarring, he realized. The kind that would never fully heal.
The cost of rescuing him.
“We need to move,” Rebecca Morse said from behind them, her voice urgent but not unkind. “It’ll be only a minute or so more before they realize we’ve breached the perimeter.”
Ben stood and gathered Sidney into his arms. She didn’t protest, which scared him far more than the blood or the burns. Sidney always protested when she thought people were treating her as fragile. The way she’d gone limp meant she truly had nothing left.
They moved deeper into the forest, Rebecca leading, her weapon held ready. Behind them, the facility’s emergency lighting continued to strobe, and Ben could hear sirens now. Soon, the full weight of DAPI’s resources would turn toward finding them.
“How far to the extraction point?” Ben asked, adjusting his grip on Sidney. She’d passed out completely at some point, her head now lolling against his shoulder.
“Two hundred yards. Vehicle’s hidden just off a maintenance access road.” Rebecca glanced back, checking for signs of pursuit. “Can you carry her that far?”
“Yes.” His arms were already aching, but he’d carry Sidney two miles — twenty miles — if necessary. She’d nearly destroyed herself getting him out of the DAPI facility. The least he could do was get her to safety.
They’d made it a hundred yards before Sidney stirred in his arms.
“Down,” she mumbled against his shoulder. “Put me down. Too heavy.”
“You weigh about as much as my field equipment,” Ben said without breaking stride. “I can manage.”
