I find Nico’s fingers, entwining my hand with his and gripping tight.
The Game Master is almost on us. He looks pissed we’re holding our ground. So much adrenaline slams into me that the edges of the world smear, and it makes the pain in my feet disappear.
He charges at us with a roar.
Nico pulls me around the column.
I stumble after him with all the grace of a drunk elephant. A hand closes around the back of my jacket, hauling me backward.
Shit shit shit.
Nico jerks me out of the Game Master’s grip so hard I slam into his chest. He spins us, putting his body between the Game Master and me.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” he growls.
Nico steers me around the column. The Game Master charges after us, but his next step lands squarely in the center of the daisy wheel, and suddenly, he can’t move. His legs strain against nothing. Muscles bulge as he tries to force his way forward. He sees the symbol drawn in my blood, and his face goes from confused to absolutely murderous.
Nico grabs my hand.
And we run for the door.
I run with everything I have, although calling it running would be generous. Our feet pound hard on the broken tiles. Each step is lurching and too big, our scabbed and infected feet weighed down by our boots. The door that arrogant asshole came through is sitting ajar, enough that I can see a thin lineof red light coming through the gap. Probably because he didn’t think we could make it there, anyway.
We shove through the door, turning around and pulling it closed behind us. Nico grabs the handle, twisting the deadbolt until it slides in.
There are several doors behind us, but only one is already open. We head straight for it and burst into the hallway where we did the glass trial. Shards still litter the floor, but we have our boots now. There’s another door across from us standing open, and we throw ourselves through it.
It opens into another hallway, but this one is huge. I take in metal carts, empty door frames, a wheeling patient bed—holy shit, we’re in a hospital. No wonder the others haven’t found us yet. They’ve more than likely been looking for abandoned warehouses and factories.
Seeing gurneys and IV stands must encourage us, because we find another gear I didn’t know we had. We lurch down the hallway together, Nico’s arm around my shoulders taking most of my weight, which is stupid when his feet are worse than mine. I should be carrying him. Each step sends sharp stabs of pain through my soles, but it’s manageable. Nico’s the one who’s hurting. I can feel it in the way he’s favoring his right side. In how his weight keeps getting heavier against me.
Our method of following open doors stops working. There are so many doors to wards, waiting rooms, supply closets, and offices, and only a handful are closed.
Where’s the fucking exit?
The hallway stretches ahead of us, impossibly long. We reach a T-intersection and both stop, Nico’s hand tight on my arm as we whip our heads left and right.
I listen hard and hear a hint of that scratchy sound coming from the left. I pull Nico in the opposite direction, and he doesn’t question me.
We round a corner past an old circulation desk, and my feet nearly slide out from under me on a thick layer of dust. A yellowedEXITsign looms in the middle of the hallway, its arrow pointing at a door markedFIRE DOOR STAY CLOSEDin faded red letters.
Nico reaches it first, his hand slamming against the push bar. The metal groans but gives. He holds it open, his other hand tight on my shoulder as he practically shoves me through into a stairwell.
Down the hall behind us, a door slams so hard the sound echoes off the tile like a gunshot.
Our eyes meet.
The only way out is up. Narrow basement stairs stretch above us. Nico and I race up them as fast as we can, my feet barely landing on each step before I’m lunging for the next one. Nico grips the railing with one hand, and his other hand is fisted in the back of my jacket.
My boot catches on a step. I pitch forward, my bad knee smacking against the sharp corner, but Nico hauls me up before I can even process the pain. I do as much as I can to drag him up each step after me but he’s so heavy, and I can’t keep a tight enough grip on him with one hand.
The door to the stairwell bangs open.
We burst into a narrow hallway. Yellow streetlamps shine through grimy windows. I could sob with relief.
An exit door comes into view. Nico slams his shoulder into the metal push bar. The door doesn’t budge.
We both throw ourselves against it. My good hand lies flat against the surface. Nico puts all his weight behind his next shove, but we might as well be pushing against a wall. It doesn’t even rattle.
