The service tunnel under the warehouse is a far cry from the subway tunnels—dusty earth takes the place of concrete walls, giving the vibe of a prison break rather than a maintenance path. Occasional wooden struts support the roughly excavated roof, and battery lamps hang from each one, casting a dull orange glow on our faces.

We tiptoe along, painfully aware of any noises above or behind us. Caleb first, then Dani, then me. I find my gaze pulled to the hatch behind us, now moving further away—twenty feet, twenty-two—the further we move, the harder it will be to run away if there’s any sign of danger.

I keep my voice as quiet as I can, hoping Caleb will still be able to hear me. “Cal?”

When he turns, I signal a timeout, and lean back against the earthen wall. Dani and Caleb follow suit. Right underneath a wooden strut, there’s enough light cast over us to sign to each other.

‘What’s wrong?’ Caleb gestures. The lamp above highlighting the deep lines of his forehead.

‘Are you sure about this?’ I reply. ‘What Gemma said back there…’

‘She was just hurt. It didn’t mean anything.’

I hesitate, looking to Dani for backup. They nod and join in immediately. ‘Perhaps we should keep an extra watch? Just in case it’s a trap?’

Caleb shakes his head in disbelief. ‘You don’t know Gemma like I do. She wouldn’t lead us to a trap. This is as much of a risk for her as it is—‘

‘Regardless, we should be cautious. Even with this tunnel, we shouldn’t rush in.’ Dani checks with me, and I nod my agreement.

Caleb leans one hand against the wall, head hanging, but he nods too. I knew he wouldn’t like me questioning Gemma, but I can’t let his crush get us all into trouble. We have to be cautious.

‘I can keep watch at the rear,’ I continue. Caleb hasn’t looked back up. I tap my fingernails on the wood strut impatiently, and he jerks his chin up, scowling at me.

‘I can keep watch at the rear, but we need a plan when you first go inside. A signal, or a warning.’

‘How about; oh shit it’s a trap?’ Caleb raises his eyebrows for emphasis.

The heat rises to my cheeks, and I resist the urge to start a sibling squabble underground. I take a deep breath, and stare him out for a moment, before turning to Dani. ‘Any ideas for a signal?’

‘How about this; I’ll take a quick look inside, and if it’s empty, I’ll wave you both in. If it’s a trap, I’ll tap the hatch three times, and you can double back to the other warehouse before anyone sees you.’

‘Why does it have to be you?’ I ask, heart pounding. I hate the thought of Dani taking the lead—what if it is a trap? What if there are wardens waiting to take us as soon as we show our faces?

‘I’ll go first,’ Caleb signs.

‘No… I don’t want you to either—’

‘Someone has to, Kyla. Now, this is my baby. I’ll take point. Dani, if you hear anything I miss—’

‘I’ll get your attention.’

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They nod to each other, then turn to me in unison.

I hate this. I don’t want either of them to be put at risk. Lena and Frank should be down here, not us. This isn’t our battle.

But then again, it is. I got dragged into this fight the moment Harding singled me out. What other choice would I have? Disappear? Run away? As if I could even get out of Skycross anyway—skulking around within the city might be doable, but I’d never get past the wall, or the checkpoints without an ID bracelet.

If it wasn’t us down here, it would only be someone else the wardens have punished, or singled out for torture. Nobody that I’ve seen has deserved it, not us, not Lena or Frank, not any of the abandoned I’ve met. We’re all dragged into this against our will.

I nod in return, and we all turn back to the tunnel in grim determination. We should be nearing the corner where Gemma left us by now, at the edge of the first warehouse. The tunnel continues in a dead straight line ahead. I count the lamps to estimate the distance—eighty feet? Maybe a hundred?

We plod along in silence until we approach a second hatch overhead—a round metallic pipe cover, with a sturdy stepladder underneath. Caleb climbs up, resting his hands on the hatch. He looks back at us, and we give him a thumbs up signal.

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, he ascends the steps, poking his head up into the warehouse, peering around. I strain to see into the warehouse but my view is entirely blocked by his torso. He ducks back down and waves us through before climbing the rest of the way up into the warehouse.

Dani gives me a small smile and follows.

Alright, I guess Gemma didn’t screw us over after all.

But I feel no guilt for my caution—I’d rather argue with Caleb than lose him through carelessness.

I step up on the ladder and poke my head through the hatch. The warehouse is dark—the only light comes from windows so grimy that they glow like ghosts, rather than allowing any light to pass through. It takes a while for my sight to adjust, but once the inky blackness fades, I can make out stacks of boxes standing high on each side of me.

Clambering out of the hatch, we stand in the middle of a storage corridor—the boxes tower another ten feet overhead on either side, and down a long aisle, punctuated by forklifts and ladders.

‘Where do we start?’ I gesture.

Caleb shrugs, but Dani beckons to us, moving further down to the end of the aisle. They pull a few scraps of paper out of their jeans pocket and pass one to Caleb and one to me, keeping a third for themself. ‘This is the symbol we need. Check the boxes.’

We split up. I take this aisle, Caleb the next, and Dani the third. Holding the scrap up to my face, I squint at the hasty ink drawing, showing the Emotiv symbol. But it’s not quite the same—where the cafe bore a curvy ‘E’ with smoke rising inside it, this looks more like a badge, or an Emblem, maybe. The letter E is solid black, on top of a five-pointed star.

I gaze about me at the towering boxes, wishing I had more light. Keeping my footsteps light, I get the end of the aisle without seeing a single box bearing this symbol. Perhaps one of the boxes higher up has it, though. I grab a ladder and rest it against the rack on my right.

Stepping on to the first rung makes a dull thunk which echoes around the warehouse. I freeze, wincing with my hands on the ladder, and one foot still on the ground. Even though the warehouse stays practically silent, I swear I can hear Caleb, or perhaps Dani, let out a frustrated sigh elsewhere in the building.

I continue more slowly, keeping my steps light and making sure I don’t rattle the metal and make more noise. When I get up to the top of the racks, I can finally make out the labels on the boxes. Some are just symbols, others are labelled with contents lists.

I have to move the ladder three times to save the risk of falling off, but on my third attempt, I catch sight of a label—a grey star, with an ‘E’ overlaid in black. The box isn’t large, or heavy—about the size of a dinner plate, and squat enough that I’d be able to carry it in one hand.

Sliding the box towards me, I test the lid. The flap of cardboard opens, revealing a row of neatly packaged vials—finger-sized ampules, filled with blank, void-like liquid. Even in the dark warehouse, the Oblivion sucks all the surrounding light into its eerie depths.

The syrup in Emotiv was nothing like this—it was dark, yes, and beautiful in a gothic sort of way, but these vials have a different feel to them. They feel intimidating.

I close the lid again and descend, carefully tucking the box under one arm.

The moment my toe touches the ground, the warehouse lights turn on instantaneously, blinding me. I almost drop the box, but fumble and catch it in time. Instead of stepping lightly to the ground, I land with a heavy thud. Instinctively, I shrink against the racks, hoping that whoever has come in won’t come my way.

“Come out, Kyla,” a familiar voice calls. “I know you’re in here.”

It’s Harding.