Basil rested his head against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought her here tonight. I knew it. I got her killed. I screwed up and got Ruth Anne killed.”

“It’s not your fault,” Amy said. “This is no one’s fault.”

Basil shook his head.

“It was my choice,” he said. “I brought you both here. It gave me an excuse to talk to you.”

“What?” Amy asked.

“I thought I could figure out why you’re popular,” Basil said. “Why everyone talks to you.”

“I’m not that popular,” Amy said.

“I’m boring,” Basil said. “I had to become a floor manager before anyone would talk to me.”

Amy thought about it for a minute.

“There are worse things than being boring,” she finally said.

They sat there for so long that Amy thought Basil had fallen asleep.

“We need to go,” she said. “You can rest when we’re outside.”

She tried to help him up, but Basil didn’t seem anxious to brave the Showroom floor again and Amy knew she had to motivate him. “You’ve got a sister waiting for you. She needs you to come home, right?”

“Her birthday’s tomorrow,” Basil said. “Today actually, I guess.”

“What’s her name?”

“Shawnette. She’ll be ten.”

“What did you get her?”

“Legos,” he said. “She wants an iPad, but we’re on a budget.”

“And a cake? Did you buy her a cake?”

“Gonna make one. It’s a thing we do. Tradition.”

“Then we better get you out of here,” Amy said. “We better get you home so you can bake your cake.”

“One more minute,” Basil said. “Just let me rest for one more minute.”

Amy sat beside him. Her flashlight was dying, yellowing to the color of old bone. All right: one more minute. It felt good just to sit, to not be moving, to not be running. It felt good and it felt right. They could stay here and be safe until the morning crew found them. There was no need to be scared, or to make any more difficult decisions. Her flashlight grew dimmer and dimmer. Eventually it would die and they could sit in the dark and wait.

Another part of Amy’s mind knew this wasn’t true. This was the building thinking for her. Worming its way inside her head, dredging up old habits and old fears. She reached down to her missing fingernail and squeezed it hard until she saw bright stars flashing in her field of vision. The pain got her on her feet and thinking clearly. She clapped her hands, the sound echoing harshly against the walls of the room. “No more stopping,” she said. “We can’t stop until we’re out.”

Basil looked up, groggy. “Just one more minute.”