I asked Jacy to warn Logan. “I also need you to borrow all the metal cutters, chisels and crowbars in the lower levels and hide them. The Pop Cops are going to want to cut a hole and the longer it takes them to complete this task, the better. Anything you can do to make the Pop Cops’ lives difficult would be appreciated.” I flipped off the device and returned it to my tool belt.

After the wave of dizziness passed, I decided to try to climb to the fourth level and warn Riley. Even if he wasn’t in our room, I would leave him a note. And then what?

To distract myself from the pain and effort of climbing, I planned my next task. I could hide from the Pop Cops, but eventually they’d know about Gateway from Domotor. I had to get there first and open it. And then? No clue.

My progress slowed and I gasped for breath. Focusing all my energy into moving my body, my awareness shrank to pushing forward one foot at a time, to pulling with one arm then the other. Black and white dots swirled in my vision and I bit my lip to keep conscious.

A single goal propelled me forward, and the last thing I remember was the sensation of falling.

Sharpness jabbed my arm. I tried to jerk away, but my arm was stuck. My whole body ached and a hammer kept striking the back of my head. I retreated to the darkness, leaving all those annoyances behind.

The pricking and pulling around my hip demanded attention. I opened my eyes, but shut them against the harsh daylight. Two people stood over me.

“She’s waking. Quick, more thiopental!”

Another painful prick on my arm, and fire raced through my veins. I welcomed the return of darkness.

Foggy thoughts floated sluggishly. Pain radiated from my hip, but only spiked when I moved, which proved difficult to do. My right arm was trapped. Squinting, I braced for the bright daylight, but sighed in relief. Soft bluelight glowed in the room.

The familiar shapes of our storeroom surrounded me. Reclined on the couch, I still couldn’t comprehend why my right arm wouldn’t move. I wore a soft robe. A liquid-filled bag hung above my head with a tube snaking down. I followed the tube and found the reason for my frozen arm. It was tied to a white board. The tube ended in a metal piece protruding from my skin.

Memories of being chased by Pop Cops sprang to life. They must have caught me and were using a drug to torture me. I struggled to sit up. Every muscle in my body hurt and I felt as if I’d been chewed by Chomper.

“Easy there,” a woman’s voice said. She knelt next to the couch and laid a cool hand on my shoulder. “You shouldn’t move.”

Panicked, I swatted at her hand with my free arm, but the effort was weak and she caught my wrist. The cuff was still in place around it.