Michaela grunted to herself, surprised she could still find the humor, and kicked the ladder loose, let it unspool down to disappear around the Pod’s curved side above the dock.

Vik straightened from the crate where she’d been checking the contents. She looked worried, frail, as the breeze teased her. The third rifle was propped beside her. Something in the woman’s eyes had turned wild, frantic.

Hell, they all looked that way.

“All right,” Michaela told them. “Here’s the plan: Casey and I climb down. We get to Kevina in the seatruck. Once inside, we spool up, lift off, and climb up to the landing pad. We set down just long enough for Kevina and me to leap out and load the crate. While we do, Vik, you climb aboard. Soon as you’re on, we’re off for the beach.”

“You’re sure about this?” Vik asked. “What if there are others? What if Kel’s down there, somewhere? Maybe locked in a room? We can’t just leave him behind.”

Michaela stepped over, laid a hand on Vik’s shoulder, and pinned the woman’s frightened gaze with her own. “Listen to me. If Kel’s not on the second level, he’s dead. The kids have taken the first level and there’s slime all over it. We’re out of time. As it is, it’ll be dark by the time we get to the beach. You can stay or go. Choose.”

Vik nodded, wind flipping her hair. “Go.”

Michaela gave the woman a reassuring slap on the shoulder, turned and strode to the rope ladder. She started to climb down, the ungainly rifle cradled in her aching left arm. Wished desperately that the thing had come with a sling. It made her progress slow, clumsy. Then she figured out a sort of rhythm. Wished the fucking ladder wasn’t so unsteady. Figured it would be a miracle if she didn’t flip the thing upside down and fall to her death.

But she made it, stepping down onto the dock, and turned. To her horror, thick-braided ropes of slime crisscrossed the dock in tangles of pulsing blue-green. They wound around the seatruck closest to the level one hatch, were fingering their way up the side of the portal.

“Oh, God, no.” Michaela made a face, stepped warily out from the wall, rifle at the ready. “Kevina!” she bellowed. “Where are you?”

“Here!” The door to the second seatruck flung open. “I can’t get back inside! The slime’s got the door covered.”

“Don’t worry. Casey’s coming down behind me. She’ll fly us up to the . . .”