Terror singing in her veins, she began to crawl on all fours down the Path. The machine got louder, and soon she could hear a raspy breathing, along with another less human noise, like something sticky being stepped on over and over. The motor was loud and the panting was louder, and there was something familiar about it. Unable to resist, Amy pulled Basil’s cell phone away from her stomach and pointed it toward the sound. The darkness evaporated, and she saw an Alboterk treadmill desk. Its black belt was moving fast and its desktop was angled forward. On the treadmill, a deformed figure was struggling to keep up. Its back was bent beneath a heavy burden and its sneakers were falling apart; one sole had peeled loose and was slapping the belt like a dog’s tongue lapping a bowl of water.

“Trinity?” Amy whispered.

Trinity’s wrists were bound with packing tape to the front of the desk. One of her enormous black gear bags, crammed full of something heavy, was strapped over her shoulders. She looked back at Amy, her hair matted with sweat.

“I saw a ghost,” Trinity mumbled. “I finally saw a ghost, but he didn’t like me.”

“Let me get you off this thing.”

“I’ll be well soon.”

“Was it Josiah?” Amy asked.

Trinity smiled. “Warden Worth promised to cure me.”

Then her face crumpled and she began to cry.

“Hold on,” Amy said.

She went to the front of the desk and tried to unwrap the tape. That’s when she saw what had happened to Trinity’s fingers. They were shattered. Bundles of broken pencils sticking out in every direction, bruised and purple where blood pooled beneath the skin. Amy found the end of the tape and unwrapped Trinity’s hands carefully to avoid hurting her more, but Trinity didn’t seem to notice.

Next Amy lifted the bag from Trinity’s back and eased her mangled hands through the straps. It was so heavy that it twisted in Amy’s arms and fell to the floor. The zipper split open and Orsk catalogs spilled out like entrails. Amy wrapped her arms around Trinity’s waist and pulled her off the treadmill.

“No,” Trinity said, struggling weakly.

“Shhh,” Amy whispered, holding her.

If anyone had come to Orsk that morning and asked Amy if she and Trinity were friends, she would have answered “It’s complicated.” But pain and fear have a way of simplifying things. Trinity was lost in the same hell as Amy, only Basil wasn’t there to save her. There was only Amy.

“No,” Trinity chanted under her breath. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“We’re getting out of here,” Amy said, trying to imitate Basil’s confidence, putting her arms around the struggling girl. “I’m not going to leave you behind. I promise.”

She reached around Trinity’s waist and guided her along, both of them limping down the Bright and Shining Path.