She approached the door and glanced into the hallway. It was clear. “Franc, how are you doing?”

“Good so far.” She could still hear him running. He was probably in a completely different section of the station by then. “Keeping ahead of them so far, thanks to the suit. They must be in their merged forms to be slowed down like this.”

“Nic,” Mitzi said, “keep an eye on Franc, too. Make sure he doesn’t turn into a dead end or run into another batch of Cymics.”

“Will do, doll.”

Mitzi glanced up and down the hallway a final time then turned back to the remaining three members of her team, who were still huddled against the wall. “C’mon, kids. Let’s go.”

They turned left out of the door, following the Cymics’ trail. Mitzi kept them moving at a quick pace, aware that every minute they spent in the dark hallways gave their inhuman companions another opportunity to turn the tables. The stress of the incessant dark doorways and the waning adrenaline made Mitzi feel clammy, making her crave a hot shower.

“Stairs are ahead of you,” Nic said just as Mitzi saw them. “Go up one level, and you won’t be far from the reactor.”

Mitzi paused at the stair’s landing and glanced at the steps leading to the lower levels. “How deep does this place go?”

For the first time, her question was answered with silence. Frowning, Mitzi beckoned to her team to follow her up the stairs, towards the second floor. “Nic?”

After another few seconds of silence, Nic came online, sounding hassled. “Sorry, I’m trying to keep tabs on the other half of your team, and they’re not making it easy. Station 335 has eighteen levels at its deepest point, and ten levels where you are right now.”

Mitzi whistled. “Large place.”

“Oh, absolutely. With a massive population to match.”

As the suit propelled her up the stairs two at a time, Mitzi remembered the child she’d been unable to shoot and felt her mouth twist in disgust. A huge population—not just workers, but the workers’ families, too—they had all been consumed before Central even realised there was a problem.

She tried to imagine what it must have been like, living on the station as the Cymics spread through it, hearing screams in the distance but not knowing what caused them. She imagined the pounding of running feet and saw the fear in the faces that passed. They would have hesitated, unsure what the danger was, trying to decide whether to follow the crowds or seek safety in their home, taking mental stock of where their families were. Then they must have seen the giant black monsters chasing on the heels of the slowest runners, snagging their human prey easily, coming too close to escape…

Mitzi put her hand against the wall to steady herself; it had been stained with a splash of blood. She pulled the glove back, acutely aware that people, many of them, had died in that very stairwell, trying to flee or to hide. She wished she could spit the dirty taste from her mouth.