We started down the ladder underneath the hatch in the far wall as the army outside began shooting out the lock on the launch-control room’s door. Fifteen rungs down, just like the first ladder. My phone battery was dying, but I still had my pocket flash. I shone it around: we were in a tunnel that ended in a doorway about a hundred yards ahead.

We could hear the sounds behind us—the army had made it through the door to the launch-control room and started down the ladder. Fear, adrenaline—something boosted me. I sprinted the last few yards.

The door was locked with an arm that had to be lowered in a quarter turn. Old, rusted. Cady and I had to pull in tandem to yank it down. We wrenched it open and slid through as a volley of bullets struck it. We pulled up the arm lock on the inside, turned around: we were inside the missile holding pen. level 3 was painted on the door in heavy black letters. Old warning signs, the precautions to take before launch, but nothing about the precautions to take against an invasion by insane U.S. patriots.

There was an elevator to one side, but it wasn’t working. We looked at each other, looked at the stairs.

“Tang Soo!” Cady fist-bumped me.

“Tang Soo,” I agreed.

Neither of us asked what we’d do at the top if we couldn’t get out. Die trying. My bravado of Monday night came back to mock me. Lotty would have some stern words for me if I died in this missile silo.

Level 2. We could hear guns blasting on the door into the missile chamber, but it would take them time to get through that mass of reinforced steel. We stopped briefly on the platform to catch our breath. Cady pulled a can of Sprite from a pocket and shared it with me.

“Tell me who my father is. If . . . if this is my last night on earth, I want to know.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “First, promise you’ll save your reactions until we’re safe. There’s no time or energy for histrionics. Agreed?”

She nodded, eyes wide.

“Start climbing.” I waited until she was two rungs up, followed.

“Jennifer Perec and her baby died in August 1983 in a disaster at the protest site. Magda Spirova—you know her name?—a Czech bioweapons expert who fled the Soviet bloc and came to work with Dr. Kiel? She had a baby with Dr. Kiel. Kiel and Spirova were reacting to the bioweapons test disaster. Spirova tucked the baby inside Jenny’s tent. When Lucinda Ferring found you, she thought you were Jenny’s baby. Doris gave you to your grandmother after Lucinda died.”

“I—” She swayed on the ladder above me.

“No histrionics!” I grabbed her ankles. “Climb!”