Trey gives him a sizing-up look, but he says, “Lead on.”

Wyatt darts back into the parking lot. There’s nothing else to do but chase after him.

He reaches the manhole cover with the Null sign on it, flips it up—turns out, it’s on a hinge. “Down the ladder,” he says. “Sorry, but I don’t think the dog—”

“She’s coming,” Trey says. “Nonnegotiable. I’ll carry her.”

“Down the ladder?” Wyatt says incredulously.

“We don’t leave teammates behind,” Trey says. Then he squats, pats his chest, and says, “Up, up,” like he’s seen me do a hundred times, and even though they haven’t practiced this together, Emmaline launches for him and buries herself in his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Wyatt shrugs. “Okay, then. Follow me. Whoever’s last has to pull the hatch shut.”

I stare at the boy’s back, thinking how Trey always makes everyone else go first, makes sure they’re safe, before he looks to himself.

Wyatt descends feetfirst. Trey indicates for Tanq to follow. “Paige, you have to be the one to close the hatch,” Trey says, his tone apologetic. “I only have one hand free.”

I nod and watch him descend into the hole, using his legs to hug the ladder as he lowers himself with one hand. “Good girl, Emmaline,” I hear him mutter. “Just stay still and this will all be over soon.”

I don’t know how deep the ladder goes, and I won’t overestimate my strength. I’ll have to be slow and careful.

Once Trey’s head is out of sight, I hold on to the edge and lower one leg until it finds a rung. Then the other. I’m halfway submerged into the ground when a glint of silver catches my eye.

I practically leap for the handle welded to the bottom of the hatch and yank it down, knocking the top of my skull. I teeter on the ladder for a terrifying second before realizing that I didn’t hit my head very hard, and that the rung beneath my feet is perfectly sturdy. I duck down, pulling the latch fully closed; the clang of it snapping shut is so much louder than I anticipated.

Darkness closes in. There is only cold metal under my fingers, the purse swinging from my shoulder, the squeak of soles against metal and the heavy breaths of my friends as we slowly descend by feel and by faith.

The ladder goes on forever. Surely we’re well below the surface of the lake by now. Below me, Emmaline starts to whine, and I worry that she’ll panic and wiggle free of Trey’s grasp and fall—