“Yeah, whatever, you’re all the same,” Jeff said, running a hand through his matted brown hair. He paced over to the corner and grabbed two bottles of water, tossing one to David.

“NTC, the military—they left us down here to die. Our dad was the only one that tried to save us,” the boy said, his voice sharp with anger.

“And he’s gone now,” David whimpered.

“I’m sorry about your dad, and I’m sorry you were left down here, but we aren’t going to leave you,” Sophie insisted.

David erupted in a fit of coughs and sat down on the concrete, pulling one of the dirty blankets over his legs. Jeff joined him and opened a can of peaches with a small knife.

“You need to eat,” he said, handing his brother the can.

Jeff looked up at Overton, and then at Sophie. In that moment, something in his eyes changed from angry to pleading. “He’s sick. You’re a doctor, so help him, lady.”

Sophie sat next to the child. His face was pale and covered in grime. She reached to wipe off some of the dirt, but he pulled away.

“I can help him, but not here. We need to get you back to our facility, where we have medicine.”

Jeff stood and placed his hands on his hips, studying her through narrowed eyes. “Where is your facility?”

Sophie paused. She didn’t want to tell him the truth. He was old enough to know they were more than a car ride from Denver.

“It’s in a safe place, but I can’t tell you where. It’s classified,” she lied.

Overton shot her a confused look but recovered quickly, realizing her strategy.

“There are other kids there, too,” he added. “Kids who survived like you two.”

David sucked a peach into his mouth and looked up at his brother. “Can we go with them?”

Jeff narrowed his eyes even further. After several seconds of silence, he reached down and patted his brother on the head. “Yeah, David, we can go with them.”

Bouma finished cleaning the gore out of the hallway with one final push of the mop. He eyed the broken ceiling tile where the Spiders had emerged. He’d spent as much time as he could cleaning up after the attack, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.

“You’re really going up there?” a voice said from behind him.

He turned to see Holly leaning against the entrance of the hallway.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You could wait for the others to get back.” Her voice was different. Holly’s normal sweet tone had hardened, something he’d heard in soldiers before, after deployments. He didn’t respond. Instead, he unfolded a metal ladder and positioned it under the hole.

“They are coming back,” Holly insisted.

“I know,” Bouma said. “Where are the kids?”

“With Emanuel.”