“Hey!” I yell without thinking. “Be careful!”

He skids backwards, fumbling with his holster, trying to free his gun. I charge ahead, bellowing, using my unconscious brother as a battering ram. I swing sideways, collecting the terrified guard across the chest and face with Aiden’s shoulder. He crashes back against the wall, his gun spiralling in the air before it hits the floor.

There are more pounding feet and yells coming from behind me as I slam my way into the rec hall where the temperature has plummeted due to the broken window. Dropping Aiden to the ground, I’m careful to catch his head. Then I dive through the jagged hole into the biting cold. I grab Aiden by the feet just as the guards come barrelling through the double doors.

I wrench him out so quickly that I fall in the muddy grass with his feet up around my face. I thrash my way out from under him. Shots fire! I drag him back over my shoulder and veer away from the window, fearing more bullets.

The alarm fills the night. When we reach the fence, I don’t have the faith to attempt a leap with Aiden on my back. I dump him in the wet grass, regretting his short sleeves and thin cotton shirt out here in the freezing air, and grab the tight wire links at the base and haul upwards with a roar of effort. Metal bites through my gloves, cutting my palms. The howling wind and wailing siren muffle the sound of snapping threads and popping links. Shots and shouts ring out. I don’t look back.

There’s a lapse of time during which I drag Aiden through the hole in the fence and run with him across the broad field into darkness. I hear only my heartbeat crashing in my ears, the heavy thud of my feet. Shadows grow deeper as I escape the floodlights. When I reach the wood, time snaps back. I collect my pack, reposition Aiden on my shoulder and take off through the trees for the long run back to the car, conscious of nothing more than the requirements of my body. Aiden’s weight presses down on me; I register the extra effort required to pump my legs and move through space. Still, I know I’m faster than an unburdened civilian and that will have to do.

By now there is no more fear, though I know they’re pursuing me. I’m afraid they’ll have dogs, but I count on my head start to get us back to the other side of the reserve before they can close in.

Somehow I navigate the muddy undergrowth, the bracken, the tangled tree roots and damp leaves without losing my footing or dropping Aiden. Unspooling the route in reverse, I seek the landmarks, the mossy outcropping rock where the ground rises halfway back to the car; beyond that a fallen pine rotting in the stream to my right. When the forest floor dips, hope erupts in my burning chest, strengthening me for the hundred yards downhill to the end.

By the time I break from the trees, I’m drenched with sweat, winded and almost ready to collapse beneath Aiden’s weight. Kitty’s car gleams in the darkness. I stagger towards it dragging the soaked balaclava from my face, fumbling Kitty’s keys from the pocket of my vest. The loud beep of the car unlocking makes me cringe and I hurry to unload Aiden onto the back seat, groaning with effort and relief. I’m in the driver’s seat and tearing away as the faint echo of dogs barking reaches me through the window.

The drive through the back streets of Roxborough is torture. I’m shaky and all tunnel vision. I think about regulating my breathing, but I’m still gasping after the long sprint with an almost full-grown man on my back. I think about watching my speed and not drawing attention to myself but I see no other cars on the road. The clock on the dash reads one-eighteen. The neon sign for the Daisy Chain comes into view. I resist the flood of relief: it’s too soon to congratulate myself; there’s still too much to do.

I park outside the unit. There’s only one other car in the courtyard and no light on in the office. I pray no one will see as I haul Aiden upright, swinging his arm across my shoulder, hoping I look like I’m helping an inebriated friend after a big night out.

I dig the key card from my pocket, leaning Aiden against the doorjamb. A peculiar sense of foreboding ripples through my shoulders and my pins and needles crackle in my spine. The door creaks open.

“You’re back.”

White-faced and wide-eyed in the gloom, Kitty.

HYPOTHERMIA

“I can do this,” I say, seething on the grimy floor of the bathroom.

“Let me help.” Kitty leans in, ignoring my glare, my muttered expletives. “Oh, giveover.” She helps to lift Aiden into a sitting position. She grunts and huffs, making awkward work of it in the tiny space. “He’s so cold.”

He is cold and I’m trying not to freak out. I tell myself the drug will wear off, he’ll come around, his body will self-regulate. In the meantime, I need to get his circulation moving, turn those blue lips and fingers back to pink.

Almost drunk with fatigue, I wrestle to get his clothes off, damp from the freezing night air. I give Kitty a warning look and leave his boxer shorts on and let her prop him up while I run the shower and strip down to my underwear.

Kitty raises her eyebrows at the bindings over my bra – fat lot of good they did me after I gave myself away, yelling at the guard like a total idiot. I unwind the length of bandage to free my movements before hefting Aiden under his arms, spots popping before my eyes with the head rush. The shower stall is tiny but I manage to drag him in with me. Unsteady on my feet, I bang my shoulders on the walls, the sting of hot water in my cut palms. “Come on, Aiden,” I say, my mouth at his ear. “Please, wake up.”

The water scalds me but his body is icy and his pulse slow and erratic. His breathing, at least, sounds regular. I rub his chest, I rub his arms, willing my heat into him. I turn the faucet up as far as it can go and chafe his hands wetly between mine. Steam billows until the bathroom becomes foggy as a sauna, but still Aiden’s head hangs heavy on my shoulder and there’s no heat in his skin. I keep calling to him, softly and then with growing urgency, “Aiden, come on.”

“He’s not getting better, is he?” Kitty waits on the bath mat, her plaintive expression tempting me into hysteria. She worries her lip between her teeth. “You didn’t give him too much?”

I close my eyes at a wave of exhaustion, grappling to shunt Aiden to my other shoulder. What if Fretizine isn’t compatible with his system? What if it’s only for Shields? What if you’re killing him? It only ever made me weak, numbed the hard edges of pain, slowed my reflexes, dampened my adrenaline while resetting my system, allowing me to heal more quickly. Miriam talked about its benefits post-trauma to allow signal regeneration. It slowed your heart. I growl and swear, blinking against tears and steam. It’s all going wrong. It’s getting so late. He should be on the road by now. On the train. Miriam will be beside herself. What if I’m wrong and she comes here? “Why couldn’t you just do what I asked?” I cry at Kitty. “Everybody will be looking for you! They’ll figure it out.”

Jamie! Jamie will figure it out!

Kitty scowls. “I’m not an idiot. I told Barb I was staying at Lila’s. I figured it would be easier than turning up at home and making up a lame story about my car being locked in a parking garage.”

“They’ll find us. Aiden’ll end up in maximum security. Affinity will kill him.”

She gasps. “You said the A-word.”

“I don’t care about the A-word!” My shout echoes in the shower cubicle making my head spin.

“We’ll wake him.” She hugs herself. “We’ll get him out. I’m sorry. I wanted to help. You need my help.”

“I don’t need your help!” The hard curve of Aiden’s back is still icy against me, his body limp. I slap at his face. “Aiden! Wake up!”

“Stop,” Kitty cries. “It’s not working.”