He hauled her up by her arms, dumping her limp body into the Hügga. Amy tried to slide out but Basil was too quick. He grabbed her shoulders, holding her in place. With a gentle push he rolled the chair forward, and they set off down the Bright and Shining Path. The chair made an enormous racket, and Amy felt safe in the knowledge that all this noise would guide Warden Worth to them. She relaxed and looked around. A limp banner drooled from the ceiling. Most days it read “Bring new life into your home,” but in the darkness she could make out only the last two words: your home.

Basil swung his cell phone back and forth, its dim gray glow enough to illuminate couches and armchairs but not strong enough to reveal whatever was crouched behind them. “Almost there,” he said. “We’ll get outside, and if we’re lucky the police will be here. They’ll help me get everyone else out.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Amy said.

Ahead of them, the Bright and Shining Path was blocked by a tall barricade of toppled furniture—a huge heaping mound of Ficaro storage units, Nelipot media organizers, Gutevol rocking chairs, and smashed Kummerspeck desks. An overturned impulse bin was slung onto its side, beige shopping bags avalanching onto the floor. Broken glass was everywhere.

Amy remembered the filthy hands, slick with grime, sliding over her face. She wanted to run away but she needed to go back. Run away, or go back?

“We have to go the other way,” Basil whispered.

He spun around to face Kitchens, and Amy smiled to herself. The more he struggled, the sooner he’d realize the hopelessness of their situation. They were never getting out. Warden Worth would just extend their sentences, adding years and years and years. He would be so angry that Amy had gotten out of her chair. He would be so angry she’d stopped her treatment.

Basil pushed her off the Path toward the shortcut door between Kitchens and Wardrobes, only to discover it was barricaded with more smashed furniture. Alone, Basil might have climbed over it, but with Amy it was impossible.

“Not a problem,” he insisted. “We’ll take the long way around.”

He turned the chair back toward Dining Rooms. Amy realized that her lungs no longer hurt as badly. She was breathing more normally. Her head felt clearer, and the time spent in the restraining chair was receding from memory.

“You’re trapped,” she whispered.

“We’re fine,” Basil assured her, but his voice was a little less certain. “We’ll simply have to go through the back of house.”

One of the wheels on the Hügga began to squeak, making a steady eek-eek-eek as they rolled along, a clear beacon to anything waiting in the dark.

“There’s nowhere to go,” Amy said.