I take off, running through the Commons and then the public gardens, trying to catch up with LeGru, and then I think I spot him, or at least a bony silhouette that could be him slipping down the tunnel entrance at Arlington. A shorter route for sure than going all the way to the Old Library. Is he in that much of a hurry? I remember the Secretary’s furious eyes. Yes, I guess shortcuts are in order and LeGru is giving me one of my own.

I continue running, trying to catch up, and then slow as I near the entrance. The tunnels are dark in the daytime. How much darker will they be at night? How can LeGru see anything at all? I make my way down the rough stone steps, trying to keep every part of me silent, including my breaths. When I reach the station area I see a small red light glowing in the distance and hear a faint high-pitched hum and then they both disappear altogether. I listen. There isn’t a single sound. Not a hum. Not a footstep. Not a breath.

I let my eyes adjust. My practice in the apartment helps me accelerate the process. I concentrate, forcing my eyes to search for scattered light. In seconds, the dim walls of the station come into view, and then, the still dimmer walls of the tunnels that lay beyond. Dead silence. Not even the skittering of small animals. Something has frightened them away.

I step forward. There’s only one place to go. Toward the red light that disappeared so suddenly. That has to be where he went. The air is dank, smelling of rot. I watch my steps, avoiding large pieces of rubble, but I can’t avoid the grit that covers everything and it crunches through the silence. I fight the urge to call out. I know it would be suicide to make myself known, and yet, the last time I was in such a dark place, that was all I could do, call out to Kara and Jenna over and over again, hoping one of them would come. I fight the instinct that ruled me for 260 years.

Did the red light lead to a doorway? I reach the entrance of the main tunnel for the green line. I walk farther in and run my hands along the wall where I thought I saw the light. I can’t find it. Was it an illusion? Light reflected from somewhere else? I make a decision. I’m down here. I may as well go for broke. I start down the tunnel. Karden’s here, somewhere. I can feel it. I don’t know how I know, but I do. Is this what my mother defended as intuition? If so, I’ve got it. Or maybe I’m still learning new things that my BioPerfect can do. Unfortunately it doesn’t keep my chest from feeling like every breath is trapped inside. I’m swimming against the current of survival mode.

The old broken track still runs down the middle of the tunnel so I stay to the left side, which has a wider, more intact walkway. The farther I go, the darker it gets, the danker the air, the tighter my chest squeezes, the faster my pace. Get in, get out, Locke. Do it now. Find him. Do it for Miesha. Do it for you. Do it for Raine. It’s a new kind of survival.

I come to a place where the tunnel forks. The path to the left is smaller and cruder, maybe a tunnel that was forged in haste during the Division. No trains ever went down this way, but what has? My gut tells me to follow it, so I do. Another ten yards and another fork. This dungeon is riddled with haphazard tunnels. Someone could get lost down here forever if they weren’t careful and I make a special effort to note my steps and turns. I follow my gut again, this time to the right. I can barely see at all now. Even these BioPerfect eyes need the smallest bit of reflected light to work with and here there’s none. My breaths are shallow in my chest, like the air has vanished along with the light. I remind myself: I’m not there. There’s ground beneath my feet, a real world that’s only steps away. I fight the temptation to turn on the light that’s in my iScroll, knowing it would set off alarms and bring Security Forces swarming down on me. Damn Carver for calling. I move forward more carefully now, listening for sounds. The only ones are my footsteps, but the sense is even stronger now. Something is nearby. Something important. Something like Karden. He’s alive. I’m close. I’m sure of it.

And then.

I sense something else.

I stop.

Cock my head to the side trying to understand what it is.

A breath.

A presence.

A closing in.

And then shadows.

Flashes of air.

A thousand screeches surround me and I’m knocked to the ground. Pounced on. Razors cutting into my flesh. Screeches ringing in my ears from all sides. I fight them off, whatever they are, tossing, punching, trying to stand and being pulled down again. There are dozens of them coming at me. I feel bites, gouges, claws, the snapping of jaws as they miss me. I roll and deflect them, gaining a moment of freedom and then losing it again. Teeth sink into my hip, tear into my arm. I kick one off and another takes its place. I finally grab what seems to be a small one around the neck, and I hear an agonized screech, and for a moment the onslaught pauses. I pull the creature closer, holding it by the throat until it whimpers louder. The rest hold back and even though I’m sure they can’t understand, I yell, “I’ll kill it. Stay back or I’ll snap its head off.” And I could. Right now, I could do it in a heartbeat.

There’s screeching and snapping, but they stay at bay, seeming to sense my desperation. I walk backward, holding the creature by the neck as it claws at my arms. With each step back I take, the shadowy pack follows, just waiting for me to trip or let go. When I sense they’re getting too close, I squeeze tighter so the creature in my arms screams and chokes. I step carefully, knowing one stumble and they will be on top of me again. Blood drips down my face, into my eyes, my mouth. I feel every gash, the pain, the gouges where their teeth have riddled my flesh, but I keep moving. If I stop, I know I’m dead. The creature twists and slithers, razorlike claws shredding my shirt and digging deeper into my arms trying to escape, but I keep my hold.