The gunshot made Konecheck stumble and Amos twisted into the slackness of his grip, falling backward and landing hard. Clarissa was lying over Morris’ body, her two hands around the dead man’s fist, taking aim again. Blood poured down Konecheck’s chest, but before he could launch himself at the girl, Rona’s hand came up over the edge of the shaft and grabbed his ankle. Konecheck kicked back, his muscles flickering too fast to see, and Rona yelped. But by then Amos was on his feet again, knees bent deep to keep his center of gravity low. The world was still spinning. He couldn’t trust his inner ear to tell him which way was up. But he’d spent a lot of years in free fall. Ignoring vertigo just meant it was a day that ended in y.

He landed a straight kick in Konecheck’s crotch that probably castrated him, and the man stepped back, eyes wide. He had maybe a tenth of a second to look surprised as he fell back down into the Pit. Then that part was done.

Amos sat down, rubbing his injured ear as Rona crawled up into the bleak half-light. She was crying and turning slowly, taking in the devastation all around them with disbelief and horror. The woman’s hands flapped at her sides like she was pretending to be a penguin. Her distress would have been funny if it hadn’t been so sincere. Losing everything should at least be dignified.

“Where’d it go?” she shouted over the rushing of the wind, like anyone could answer. And then, “Oh my God. Esme.”

Clarissa had rolled onto her back, her arms spread to the filthy rain, her head resting on the dead man like he was a pillow. Her eyes were closed, but he could see her rib cage moving. Amos squinted up at Rona. “Esme? That one of your people?”

She nodded without looking at him.

“Yeah,” Amos said. “Look, if you need to go look for her, that’s all right with me.”

“The prisoner… I have to…”

“It’s all right. I’ll keep Peaches out of trouble. You know. Until you get back.”

The absurdity of it seemed lost on the woman. She stumbled forward, heading for a low hill on the horizon. She wasn’t coming back. No one was coming back. There wasn’t anything to come back to.

Clarissa’s eyes were open now. As he watched, her mouth widened into a smile and she reached up, running damp hands through her hair. When she laughed, it sounded like pleasure.

“Wind,” she said. “Oh my God, I never thought I’d feel wind again. I never thought I’d be outside. It’s so beautiful.”

Amos glanced around the ruins and shrugged. “That’s got a lot to do with context, I guess.”