The unlit stairwell stank of piss and vomit but was less exposed. Reconnoitering the fourth floor showed us larger, more evolved encampments along the window walls where the light was strongest, with the Macys’ colorful gang tags claiming possession of this sector or that. And now there was a scatter of bodies to creep around. Adder bodies. Big, male, naked or half-clothed, curled up on cushions, overflowing from bed cubicles, spread-eagled on tattered sofas, sprawled on the floor. Sleeping, passed out, nodding out, often in their own puke and piss . . . or just plain dead. Hard to tell. Daniel wouldn’t let us get close enough. He satisfied himself that no Macys lay undiscovered in the mess and circled back to the concealing murk of the fire stairs.

Always, the noise surrounded us, invaded every pore, ricocheted along every nerve. It made me jumpy, clouded my mind. How could they stand it? At the fifth-floor landing, Daniel passed the exit by and kept climbing. The moment we’d cleared the halfway turn, the door below burst open. A handful of Adders stumbled through, dragging another by his heels. One held the door open to let in the light. We dropped low and shrank against the stinking upper wall, peering through the railing. The guy on the ground struggled vaguely, raising a chorus of guffaws from the others, who proceeded to toss him down the stairs. He lay groaning on the landing until they staggered after him, still roaring, then hauled him up again and tumbled him down the next flight. After that, he didn’t move, and the fourth-floor door slammed shut as the others left him there.

“What could he have done that they . . . ?” I murmured.

“Not enough,” said Daniel. “Adders punish restraint.”

Hannah rose to gaze over the railing. “Maybe the game is to see how many bones you can break before he actually stops breathing.”

“And that’s only an appetizer,” he added.

We weren’t going to help the dude, even if he was dying. I’d learned that lesson already. “Why hurt your own guys?”

“Culling the weak.” Daniel slumped against the railing, exhaustion snatching at him. He fought it down, swiping at the muck on his forehead to keep it from his eyes. “You’re presuming survival as a primary goal.”

Wasn’t it everyone’s? “What, then?”

“Status. Macho. How many men it takes to hold you down. How long you can go without sobering up. Adders aren’t really a den. They’re a tidal wash-up of guys sharing nasty appetites and a willingness to do anything to satisfy them.”

If I hadn’t yet realized that I might die here, I got it now.

Hannah’s nails tapped the railing. Letting reason surface long enough for conversation was no advantage right then. Daniel shoved himself off the wall. “Let’s go.”