Once We Were

short distances. But we still had an entire flight of stairs and the length of the lobby between us and safety.

There wasn’t any choice but to try anyway.

We’re going to die, I thought, dragging ourself to the final flight of stairs.

We’re going to die, I thought, setting our palm on the first step down, trying to shift our weight so the rest of our body could follow. Our ankle and leg lit afire with pain.

Oh, God, please don’t let us die. Please. Please.

How many minutes did we have left? How many heartbeats?

The door to the stairwell opened again.

Jenson stared up at us. We stared down at him. Swiftly, he climbed the stairs and leaned toward us. “Arms around my neck.”

We obeyed without question. He picked us up. Our hands fisted around the back of his collar, crumpling it.

Please, God, don’t let us die.

He didn’t speak again, just ran back down the stairs as quickly as he could with us in his arms. Every jolt made us bite our lips to keep back a cry of pain.

He shoved the stairwell door open with his shoulder.

Please, God, don’t let us die.

We were halfway across the lobby when the bomb detonated.

THIRTY-NINE

We were blind and deaf and weightless.

<Eva?> Addie said, or maybe I only imagined it.

Gravity returned first. I couldn’t tell which way we were being crushed, only that we were. We tried to move and couldn’t. There was something covering our face. We couldn’t breathe.

No. No, we could. We could. We just had to keep calm.

We were alive.

<Addie?>

Everything had gone dark and silent.

<Y-yeah?>

<We have to get out> I said. But we didn’t move. We didn’t try to. We perched at the edge of hysteria, and as long as we didn’t try to move, and fail, we could stay on this side of it, could stay calm, safe.

We were pinned under something. Nothing hurt. Was that good? Or did that mean something was terribly, terribly wrong?

Focus, I told myself fiercely. Focus. Focus.

<Addie?> I said again, more to hear her voice than anything. Her wordless shaking frightened me. Her silent, compressed fear. This was the sum of all our worst nightmares. All the terrors we had of dark, enclosed spaces. This was the trunk in the attic when we were seven, and the mobs of Bessimir and Lankster Square, and—

<We can’t move> Addie whispered. <If we shift something wrong—>

We might be crushed. Properly. Permanently.

We swallowed. Our eyes still saw nothing but darkness. Our ears heard nothing but silence.

<Call for help> Addie said.

The enormous pressure on our chest made it difficult to breathe, let alone shout, but I tried anyway. Our lips and tongue were leaden. Our voice sounded strange—muffled and far away.

Would anyone dare step foot into the crumpled building? Was there even a building left at all?

<Addie?> I said again. <Addie, we’re going to be okay.>

<Distract me> she whispered, as she had at Nornand, when we’d been forced to lie inside that box of a machine for testing. Her trembling had escalated. It threatened to shatter both of us. <Tell me a memory, Eva.>

So I did. Memories from before Anchoit, before Nornand. Memories of home. Of Mom and Dad and Lyle and even Nathaniel. Of our little house with the dark roof and the strawberry-patterned kitchen curtains. Our heartbeat didn’t slow, but the chaos in our head receded, just a little.

<Are we ever going to get back home?> Addie said softly. <Are we ever going to see them again?>

<Yes> I said.

<Eva—>

<Yes> I insisted. <Yes, we are. We just have to get out of here first, okay?>

There was a great groaning noise. Then something fell, slamming into the ground so hard it shook beneath us. There was a blast of heat.

Fire.

A strangled scream ripped from our throat.

<We have to get out, Addie> I cried. <Now! >

This time, she didn’t argue.

Our arm didn’t move. Our hand didn’t move. But our fingers twitched. I tried our other arm, our left arm—

The pain came. Knives from our shoulder to our elbow and shooting down our back. We gasped and choked, coughing. More pain, in our ribs now. Our legs seemed freer than the rest of us. They felt hotter, too, as if flames ate the rubble next to them. I prayed I wouldn’t accidentally burn ourself.

I tried, through brute strength of will, to force our head and torso up. But our spread arms gave no support at all. I shifted our left leg over our right and shoved upward with our hip and shoulder. Our chest left the ground an inch or two, but our arm was still pinned, and everything hurt, hurt so badly. I screamed, and it came out a whimper.

But the blunt force upward had caused something to shift. When I tried moving our right hand again, it was almost free. If only we were faceup, I could shove—

A great weight lifted from our body. I gasped, lungs expanding, chest aching. I coughed. Sputtered. Choked on ash.

Jackson? Had Jackson come to dig us out? We were still facedown. I saw nothing but blackness and stars of pain.

Something clattered to the ground. The pressure on our back lessened further. I didn’t know which way to slide, but somehow, I figured it out. Then we were free. We weren’t blind. We collapsed against a fallen bit of wall.

I looked up, eyes squinted, to see who had saved us.

Jenson.

The smoke-filled air obscured his expression. Or maybe that was the soot on his skin, or the blur in our vision.

He stumbled, and I flinched as he lurched toward us. His hand slammed the wall just above our head. He fell to the side, rolling at the last minute so his body didn’t crush ours.

Then we were both sitting there, backs against the wall, as the Powatt institution snapped and burned around us.