Deadfall by Anna Carey

them. They’re equal parts of who you are, but neither knows all of you. You adjust the pack behind your head, not sure which way to turn.
    Suddenly Salto’s voice cuts through the silence. “Were you two a couple? On the island, I remember there were two kids who fought together. It was you and Rafe, wasn’t it?”
    You pull the blanket closer, not sure what to say. Ben is completely still. You wait for Rafe to respond, but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s waiting for you. You close your eyes, pretending to be asleep.
    After a moment, Rafe reaches for your hand. His finger grazes your palm.
    Someone shifts. Ben coughs.
    “Yeah,” Rafe says. “That was us.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
    YOU STARE OUT the window of the plane, focusing on the ice crystals forming between the two panes of glass. You press your finger against it, your forehead heavy against the wall. There’s nothing but a thin sheet of clouds below you.
    They did something to you. There’s no feeling attached to your thoughts. Your arms and legs are weak. Someone on the other side of the plane is yelling, but it’s a great effort to just move your head. How long have you been asleep? When you got in the car with the woman . . . the bottle of water she gave you must have been drugged.
    “Get off me, I want to go home,” the girl yells. The plane is only six rows. You can’t see her—she’s sitting somewhere in front of you. The pilot is behind a curtain. The boy in the row across from you is asleep. He’s lying across the seat, and you can only see the top of his shaved head, a strip of dyed orange hair running down the center.
    “Someone help me,” she yells. You want to move but you can’t. A spinning, heavy feeling takes hold every time you shift your body.
    A middle-aged man yanks the girl to her feet. Her thick black hair comes past her shoulders in waves. She elbows and kicks, but it doesn’t stop the man from dragging her toward the back of the plane. Her nails rip into your armrest. “Give her more,” the man says to someone behind you. “Calm her down.”
    She grinds her teeth together, her top lip curled up as he tries to force a pill into her mouth. Salto’s hair is longer but she has the same full cheeks. She looks so small beside him.
    Then there is another yell. “Come here, come help. . . .”
    Aggy steps over you, shining the flashlight into your eyes. Across from you, Devon runs his fingers through his Afro. “What is it?”
    “Time to go,” he says. “It’s gonna be light out soon.”
    When you lift your head it’s throbbing. You’ve only gotten an hour of sleep, if that. Rafe has moved closer to you in the night, the blankets in a crumpled pile. When you look down at him he smiles. “Morning,” he says.
    He reaches for your hand again, but you pretend not to see. Ben is on the other side of you. He’s already awake and folding up blankets. It seems like the rest did him some good.
    “Let’s spend the day scouting,” you suggest. “Make sure Reynolds is there, on duty, before we go in. We can make a plan once we have more of a sense of the layout, what we’re dealing with.”
    Salto nods. She retrieves a knife from the bottom of her bag. It looks nearly identical to yours.
    You tuck your own into your belt, hoping you won’t need it.
    It’s nearing five P . M . as the group convenes in an alleyway behind Bellevue, over on the East Side. You’ve spent the day scouting the hospital separately, finding out as much as you could. You arranged to meet here and report back to make a plan.
    “Reynolds is definitely on duty,” Aggy reports. “I checked a chart behind the nurse’s station. He’s on overnight call, so we’ve got some time.”
    “There are two elevator banks—pretty much everyone uses the one by the ER, but there’s another on the opposite side of the hospital. We could use that for a quick exit if we have to,” Rafe adds.
    “It’s probably best if two of us go in together through the ER,”