back of our apartment.
Drake leans over my shoulder and he’s—smiling?
“It’s Burn.” Drake wiggles and then slips off my back, and I realize that while I’ve been so distracted he managed to loosen the knots of the blanket sling. “He showed me that knife before. It’s super sharp and strong.”
“What are you doing?” I grab for him but he drops to the floor in a heap.
“I’m going through that hole,” he says. “You follow and pull the storage box in front once we’re through.” He grabs his packed pillowcase with his teeth and drags himselftoward the wall.
His excitement seems unbelievably misplaced. Even if he’s right and it is Burn making a hole in the wall, going through it will just lead to death by way of a different route.
But I hear the heavy footsteps of Comps in our hall and realize I’d do anything not to face them, do anything to prolong the time until Drake is captured. I can’t give up.
With a thud, the section of wall falls into our room, leaving a hole. Burn’s arms thrust through. He grabs the pieces of wall he cut out and pulls them into the room he’s in.
Mind scrambling, I can’t even think whose dwelling butts up against that wall, and the more I try to remember, the more confused I become. Spatial skills are not my strong suit and I’m still stunned and frozen in place when I notice that Drake is pulling himself by his arms toward the hole more quickly than I’ve ever seen him move—even when he had use of his legs. Before I can grab him, Burn has pulled Drake through the narrow hole.
“Wait.” I dive onto my belly and slide toward the hole, grasping for my brother’s feet. Burn’s strong, hard hands latch onto my arms and pull me forward.
The second I’m through, I scramble over to Drake and put my arms around him. “Are you hurt?”
“Burn wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You’re too trusting.” I grasp my brother’s shoulders. “You haven’t seen enough of the world to know.”
Burn grunts. “Like you’ve seen the world.” He reaches back into our apartment and pulls the wooden box, which serves as both table and food storage, to block the hole. Afterstanding, he grabs a huge piece of wooden furniture. It’s taller than me and has doors on the front. He picks it up and sets it down to block this side of the hole.
“It will have to do.” Burn strides over to the window.
I have no idea whose apartment we’re in, but luckily, whoever lives here isn’t home, or if they were, Burn scared them off. The tall cupboard-like thing that Burn moved isn’t the only big piece of furniture in this place, and I start to wonder if maybe we’re in the home of the Tenant Liaison. No one else living up this high could afford so many nice things. Against the wall a mattress sits on some kind of a platform raised off the floor. Overhead there are three light bulbs covered by a pretty glass case that filters the light to disperse it evenly, and against the wall lean wooden shelves stacked with rows and rows of books. The library only allows one book out at a time, so I assume these books must be owned. Imagine such luxuries.
While I’m distracted by the opulence—there’s a rug on the floor!—Burn throws off his long coat, grabs Drake, and puts him up on his back.
“I’ll carry him.” I reach for Drake.
Burn ignores me and instead straps some kind of harness under Drake’s backside, and then pulls it forward and back over his head. He tightens it across his broad chest. Burn dons his oversized coat and my brother’s like a small appendage attached to his back. Where Drake covered my back and then some, he’s more like a backpack on the much larger Burn.
Letting Burn carry him is more practical, but my nervessnap in protest.
Burn strides to the window and picks up a rope he’s tied to a steel girder where the frame for a window used to be. He’s pulling it, measuring out lengths, then, choosing a place to grab hold, he wraps it around his thick
Drake leans over my shoulder and he’s—smiling?
“It’s Burn.” Drake wiggles and then slips off my back, and I realize that while I’ve been so distracted he managed to loosen the knots of the blanket sling. “He showed me that knife before. It’s super sharp and strong.”
“What are you doing?” I grab for him but he drops to the floor in a heap.
“I’m going through that hole,” he says. “You follow and pull the storage box in front once we’re through.” He grabs his packed pillowcase with his teeth and drags himselftoward the wall.
His excitement seems unbelievably misplaced. Even if he’s right and it is Burn making a hole in the wall, going through it will just lead to death by way of a different route.
But I hear the heavy footsteps of Comps in our hall and realize I’d do anything not to face them, do anything to prolong the time until Drake is captured. I can’t give up.
With a thud, the section of wall falls into our room, leaving a hole. Burn’s arms thrust through. He grabs the pieces of wall he cut out and pulls them into the room he’s in.
Mind scrambling, I can’t even think whose dwelling butts up against that wall, and the more I try to remember, the more confused I become. Spatial skills are not my strong suit and I’m still stunned and frozen in place when I notice that Drake is pulling himself by his arms toward the hole more quickly than I’ve ever seen him move—even when he had use of his legs. Before I can grab him, Burn has pulled Drake through the narrow hole.
“Wait.” I dive onto my belly and slide toward the hole, grasping for my brother’s feet. Burn’s strong, hard hands latch onto my arms and pull me forward.
The second I’m through, I scramble over to Drake and put my arms around him. “Are you hurt?”
“Burn wouldn’t hurt me.”
“You’re too trusting.” I grasp my brother’s shoulders. “You haven’t seen enough of the world to know.”
Burn grunts. “Like you’ve seen the world.” He reaches back into our apartment and pulls the wooden box, which serves as both table and food storage, to block the hole. Afterstanding, he grabs a huge piece of wooden furniture. It’s taller than me and has doors on the front. He picks it up and sets it down to block this side of the hole.
“It will have to do.” Burn strides over to the window.
I have no idea whose apartment we’re in, but luckily, whoever lives here isn’t home, or if they were, Burn scared them off. The tall cupboard-like thing that Burn moved isn’t the only big piece of furniture in this place, and I start to wonder if maybe we’re in the home of the Tenant Liaison. No one else living up this high could afford so many nice things. Against the wall a mattress sits on some kind of a platform raised off the floor. Overhead there are three light bulbs covered by a pretty glass case that filters the light to disperse it evenly, and against the wall lean wooden shelves stacked with rows and rows of books. The library only allows one book out at a time, so I assume these books must be owned. Imagine such luxuries.
While I’m distracted by the opulence—there’s a rug on the floor!—Burn throws off his long coat, grabs Drake, and puts him up on his back.
“I’ll carry him.” I reach for Drake.
Burn ignores me and instead straps some kind of harness under Drake’s backside, and then pulls it forward and back over his head. He tightens it across his broad chest. Burn dons his oversized coat and my brother’s like a small appendage attached to his back. Where Drake covered my back and then some, he’s more like a backpack on the much larger Burn.
Letting Burn carry him is more practical, but my nervessnap in protest.
Burn strides to the window and picks up a rope he’s tied to a steel girder where the frame for a window used to be. He’s pulling it, measuring out lengths, then, choosing a place to grab hold, he wraps it around his thick
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