“Still upstairs. Put this on.” Walker put an oxygen mask over Mike’s nose and mouth. “Just breathe in and out. Try not to cough if you can help it.”

Mike breathed in dry air until the pain in his throat started to fade. As he breathed he watched Walker’s eyes, the doctor gazing back at him, finally removing the mask.

Mike felt his anger rise, the evening’s frustration building inside him now that he had Walker as a focal point. He stopped himself, forced the irritation down. The doctor had probably just saved his life. “I know about you and Snow.”

Walker didn’t move. Then he understood. “The book.”

“Why did you bring him back here?”

“To get rid of what I put inside him,” Walker said. “I tried tonight—I tried twice. Failed both times. It wasn’t going to work.” He tilted his head to the side. “She pulled a gun on him.”

Turning his head, Mike saw Sarah sitting against the wall with Eli in her arms, both of them with their eyes closed. Jolie stood behind them, apart. Mike reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand.

Her eyes opened, recognized him. It might’ve been a smile.

“You shot the bastard?” Jolie asked, sounding reluctantly impressed.

Sarah turned her head toward Jolie, nodded warily.

“Aim for his balls?”

“A little higher.”

“Probably just as well.” After a moment, Jolie turned to Walker. “The way I see it, the tunnel’s our only chance. It’s on the map, six floors straight down.”

“That’s Snow’s map,” Walker said.

Jolie pointed at the thick black smoke crowding down from the other end of the hall. “You have any better suggestions?”

“She’s right,” Sarah managed. “Let’s take the stairs.”

Jolie looked at her for a moment without speaking. Then they went through, she and Walker first followed by Sarah and Eli, with Mike in back, clutching the railing for support. Up in front of him, he saw the boy lift his head from Sarah’s shoulders, a purple lump above his eye.

“Daddy?”

“Hey, big guy.” Mike smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. “Look who it is.”

“I missed you so much.”

“Missed you, too.”

“Are we gonna be okay?”

“Honey, we are walking out of here.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

But the stairs took a long time. At the bottom of the lowest flight, Walker took them through an open set of double doors, following the hallway down a corrugated metal ramp. The air was humid and smelled like mildewed linen, rotten paper, and old exhaust. They had reached the maintenance hall, passing rows of broken wheelchairs that would never be repaired, and an entire wall of old folders and paperwork that had been crammed into bare shelves, clear to the dead light fixtures above.