“It’s probably electric. Let’s hope it’s unlocked.” She pulled the belt free and handed it to Luke, then showed him Johan’s belt, still tied to her right wrist. “As weapons go, it’s not as good as an ax or a gun, but it’s better than nothing.”

They continued around the pool. Luke staggered, fell twice—nearly went into the deep end once. Kitty helped him up and he struggled on. He was quicker with his hands untied, but only just.

They reached the gate in the wall. Tall and featureless and very locked.

“Fuck,” Kitty said, rattling the handle. “Aren’t these things hooked up to the emergency system? They should be unlocked.”

Luke stooped and wheezed, hands on his thighs. His eyes fluttered. Kitty took a couple of steps back and assessed the wall.

“We’re going over,” she said.

“Over? Seriously?” He looked up at the wall. It was coated with stucco. No gaps or ridges to grab hold of. “This thing is eight feet high. I couldn’t spit over it.”

“You got this.”

“No, Kitty. I don’t.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Listen, you do it. I’ll boost you over.”

Kitty shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to.” Luke hooked a thumb toward the main building. “They’ll be out here soon. Run to the road, flag down a car, bring help. I’ll find a place to hide.”

“Luke, I don’t—”

“I’m not getting over that wall, Kitty.” Luke tilted on his feet, struggling even to look her in the eye. “This is the only way.”

But Kitty couldn’t get over the wall, either. She was too beaten up, too exhausted and scared. Luke tried boosting her. He got on his hands and knees, forming a low, shaky step. Kitty clawed and scrabbled, but lacked the upper body strength needed to pull herself over. She tried three times.

“We have to go back through the hotel,” she gasped, blinking tears from her eyes. “Find another exit.”

They started back the way they’d come, keeping to the shadows. Luke managed only a dozen steps before his legs went from beneath him. He hit the ground like an old drunk, not able to break his fall.

Kitty hooked her arm through his and tried pulling him back up.

“No,” he said. “You’ll be quicker without me. Just . . . just go.”

“Not happening, Luke.” She pulled—couldn’t shift him. “Help me out here. Move your ass.”

“Go, Kitty. Go . . . please.” He nodded, his lips peeled back over his teeth. “Same deal. I hide. You go for help.”

“Luke—”

Gunshots echoed from the direction of the lobby. A volley of them, then more. Kitty considered dragging Luke by the leg, or carrying him on her back—a desperate, manic thought.