Sydney shifted so that her back faced the door. Penelope glared at her as she went.
Then her eyes flickered slightly to the corner behind Sydney.
Sydney’s eyes followed her stare instinctively.
It only took a second—
And then Connor lunged at her, reaching down for the cube under her foot.
Sydney thought of Eli’s horrified expression as the object broke in his mouth.
This was their only chance to survive.
Sydney gritted her teeth. She tugged her shirt up over her nose and mouth.
Then she flipped the cube up onto her boot and kicked it hard at the wall—where it shattered.
31
Not Over Yet
Pain radiated from the wound in Winter’s chest. He winced as he darted between two narrow rows of shipping containers, suspending himself over them by pressing his hands and feet hard against either wall, and melted into the long shadows. The movement sent spasms of agony through him—he grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. His breaths came in shallow bursts. Cold ocean wind streamed through his hair and stung his cheeks. The sun was starting to set.
Behind him came commotion from the room he had just escaped. Strangled shouts, the sounds of choking. Connor’s strangled scream.
Then he saw Sydney sprinting out first, her eyes squeezed shut, her shirt pulled over her mouth.
The Paramecium cube must have shattered.
She caught sight of him and hurried in his direction. He gestured for her to follow him through the shadows.
There were other guards on board the ship. He could see flickers of movement in the distance between the towers of containers, muffled commands being shouted. Maybe Penelope had already alerted the rest of the ship that they were loose.
As Sydney caught up with him, he heard the telltale sound of the slight wheeze at the end of her breaths. It was how he got whenever he pushed himself too hard during tour. Her lungs must be aching.
At his expression, Sydney scowled and shook her head, waving it away. “I’m fine,” she snapped, glancing instead in the direction of the setting sun. “Bridge.”
Strands of Winter’s hair caught against his face as he looked toward the bridge. “We can’t go straight,” he said, nodding to where he saw multiple guards running. The pain from his chest made him light-headed.
Sydney nodded, scanning the deck. “We need to separate, too,” she replied. “Gives us two chances to get there.”
The sun had descended halfway into the ocean by now. Their silhouettes, along with the towering outlines of stacks and skeletons of cell grids were lit by brilliant orange and gold. Seeing them moving against this was too easy—although it also meant they could vanish into the long, stretching shadows.
He clutched his chest and looked up the steel pillars of the grids. At least four stories high.
Sydney caught his expression. “I’ll go up,” she said, nodding at the top of the grid towers. “You go down.” She gestured at the hatches leading belowdecks.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Your breathing.”
“You’ve been shot.”
“I can scale it faster,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be safer up there. It’s too high up for them to get a clear shot, so they’ll have to follow me up. You’ll get there sooner than me.”
He could see worry flickering in Sydney’s eyes. When she spoke, though, her voice was steady. “Fine,” she said, pulling out a gun.
He hadn’t even seen her take it off one of the guards.Thief hands,he thought admiringly.
“Don’t wait for me if you get there first.”
