Page 160 of Immune

Too late.

The air changed three days ago and it’s been acting like an asshole ever since.

Fletcher watches us both for only half a second before he says, “Kaito goes. He’s quieter than me, less likely to turn the hall into a debate, and if there’s a sightline, he’ll see it.”

I turn on him suddenly. “Excuse me?”

His expression doesn’t change once. “Information.”

Ewan whispers, “Oh my god, he’s actually learning. They grow up so fast.”

Just as he’s wiping an imaginary tear away, I point my knife at him. “You’re next.”

“Absolutely worth it,” he says.

Kaito gets to his feet fully, a little slower than he wants anyone to notice. I notice so hard it practically becomes a fucking character flaw at this point. We move through the hallway together, but not because I agree. Because everyone is temporarily making sense, which is all kinds of worse.

The hallway is narrow and coated in a layer of dust, walls lined with old maintenance charts and safety notices. Our boots make almost no sound at all as we move, Kaito following half a step behind me. Close enough to guard, but far enough not to crowd me.

The door at the end doesn’t lead to a roof, but to a small exterior platform bordered by a chain-link fence, and overlooking the lower access road. Past that, through gaps in the concrete and trashed service vehicles, I can see the city changing. Not whole, because it can never be that again, but altered somehow.

Cleared streets. Reinforced barricades. Watch posts tucked into the upper floors. A distant wall rising between two old factory buildings.

The compound.

My heartbeat stutters and my pulse skyrockets.

Kaito steps next to me. Not in front, just next to me, because apparently everyone is experimenting with that particular boundary today. Rude.

“They’ll have blockers,” I say quietly, then instantly regret it. But the words are out there before I even decide to let them out.

Kaito looks at the compound instead of at me as he answers. “Probably.”

“Medical supplies.”

“Yup.”

“Scientists.”

“Yup.”

“Rules.”

His eyes shift to me then and he’s a little slower to reply. “Yup.”

I grip the chain-link fence, and the metal bites through my glove. “Sounds peachy.”

“Sounds complicated,” Kaito comments.

I laugh only once, and there isn’t a trace of humor in it. “That’s just a polite word for cage.”

Kaito doesn’t answer straight away, so I continue looking at him. The gray light makes his face look sharper, the tiredness far harder to miss when it’s highlighted. His hand still presses the cloth against his side from under his jacket, and blood has darkened his fingers.

My anger bubbles again, and not the straightforward kind. Certainly not the useful kind. It’s the other kind, the one with fear hiding under it like a big ol’ chicken.

“You should have stayed down,” I say.

“I’m standing just fine,” he tells me.