Malcolm nods, then glances around. With more speed than either of us should have left in our reserves after the past twenty-four hours, he practically lunges at me and unceremoniously shoves me to the side to reveal a floor plan taped to the back of the door.
We silently scan the map and locate the nearest stairwell, which we’d somehow managed to plow right past. When I reach for the door handle, already bouncing on my toes, Malcolm grabs my wrist to stop me.
“I think we should split up.”
He has to feel the tremor that pulses through me. I have been terrified almost nonstop for days. I’m hurt and exhausted, and it’s taking every ounce of strength not to let waves of implications drown me, after what I just heard from my grandfather. And the only reason I’m able to do that is because Malcolm is right by my side—just as afraid, just as weary and with injuries far greater than mine.
I don’t think I can keep it up alone. I know I can’t. “No way. In together, out together. If we keep going a little farther, we—”
“We can’t. By now the entire building is looking for two running teenagers. We need to walk, and we need to do it alone.”
I hate the logic of his words. I hate it so much I start turning the doorknob anyway.
Releasing my wrist, Malcolm uses his shoulder to keep the door shut while he traces a path on the floor plan. “You can take the stairs down here, and I’ll take the ones here.” His finger slides inches to the right, past the office we infiltrated earlier. “A couple of hallways and we can meet up again here.” His finger stops at the rear exit we entered through. “I’ll be less than two minutes behind you. Then we can—”
“What about security?” I can’t think beyond getting out of this building. I don’t want to. Because once I’m outside, I have to confront things that I’m not ready to confront. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Malcolm makes a gesture halfway between a shrug and a dismissal while finding the key I’ll need and removing it from the ring. “Haven’t you noticed how understaffed this place is? We’ve seen, what, four attendants on this entire floor? The lower floors aren’t for people with cognitive issues, so my guess is they’ll have even less. And if they can’t afford staff, no way they can pay for legitimate security. At best, we’re talking about a couple guys with radios, who I guarantee will be more scared of us than we are of them. If you see one, just run. If they’re blocking a door, charge them.” He’s serious as he says it, still studying the map and frowning as he double-checks that he’s picked the best routes.
“You want me to play chicken with a security guard?”
“If you have to, yeah. And here.” He leans past me, so close that his cheek grazes my hair. He plucks a baseball cap off a hook on the wall and tugs it onto my head. He even tucks my hair behind my ears.
It sends a momentary trickle of warmth through me.
“I’m not stealing some guy’s hat.”
“Borrowing. You’reborrowingsome guy’s hat. You can ditch it at the exit, and he’ll get it back.”
“What about you?” There aren’t any other hats.
Malcolm grins at me, the first time I’ve seen him smile like he truly means it. “It wouldn’t look nearly as good on me.”
I decide to give in to an impulse then. It’s not the first time I’ve felt it, and the timing is awful, but if I don’t do it now…No, I mentally derail that thought before it can gather any real speed. There’ll be lots of other opportunities. I’m doing this now because I want to. Because he’s putting my safety ahead of his own. Because I don’t want to think about anything else.
I lean forward and brush my lips against his cheek.
He doesn’t jump the way I half expect him to. He’s surprised, but the corners of his mouth lift just a bit, letting me know it wasn’t a bad surprise. “Here,” he says again, tapping the exit on the map. “We’ll meet right here.”
And then we split up.
Suppressing my instinct to run is physically painful, as is restraining the worst-case-scenario thoughts that hit me with every step I take.
The hat is too big. It’s not adjustable either, so it keeps dipping forward and covering half my face, which I realize might not be a bad thing. Still, it would have fit Malcolm better, and helped conceal his appearance, because we both need to walk out of here undetected.
There are several residents milling about, some who take the time to smile at me as I pass and others who give me blank stares as they shuffle along. Goose bumps rise on my skin, knowing that Malcolm and I are moving farther and farther apart.
Malcolm’s right about this place being understaffed. Still, I check around each corner before entering a new hall, and if I see any employees, I slip inside a room and wait for them to pass. Not all the rooms are unoccupied, though, and I waste precious seconds with lies explaining my presence to the residents who ask who I am.
I enter the passcode wrong on the first try when I reach the door leading to the hall in front of the stairs. Fortunately, Malcolm had the foresight to memorize the codes for every floor, and he made me repeat the one I needed three times before I left. I take a deep breath and try again. This time, the red light turns green, and I use my key to open the door before picking up speed and nearly tripping as I rush down the steps. It’s even harder to rein in the impulse to run once I’m on the ground floor, but I do it. I suck in a deep breath, and I stroll down the first hall.
Amble down the second.
And saunter up the third.
When I see the security guard standing by the exit, my muscles relax fractionally, because Malcolm was right again. This guy has a white-knuckled grip on his radio, and I can see a sheen of sweat on the wide expanse of his forehead even from yards away.
I don’t charge him, though. Not yet.
