Another creaking stair. Green stared at her. “You think they came in a boat? Sometimes they have one when they move prisoners, but—”

“Not only do they have a boat,” said Kira, “but any more of them watching from underneath the water won’t think twice when they see that boat leave the island. We only have to make it what, two hundred feet, to the other island? There’s a causeway from there to the mainland, if I remember the map right. Then we’re on solid ground again and we can make a run for it.”

“Until they realize what’s going on, and the whole lake rises up to get us.”

“Do you want to escape or not?”

A gun clicked, a slide racking back. They sound close enough to be on the second floor now, and almost to the final set of stairs. Green’s link was boiling over with terror. “What do we do?”

Kira didn’t have time to plan; she had to wing this as best she could. She put her face against his ear, whispering softly so the Ivies couldn’t hear. “They can’t link me. Lead them out the window.” She pushed away from him and slipped away on all fours, her toes and fingertips barely touching the floor as she stole around the corner to the hallway. Green hesitated, but seemed to understand her plan; he jumped up suddenly and ran to the window, tearing down the blanket and climbing out onto the slanted roof beyond. He disappeared past the edge of the window frame just as the first Partial came into view up the stairs.

“They’ve gone out the window,” said one.

“Check it.”

Kira pressed herself back against the wall, out of sight around the corner, trying to tell how many Ivies there were. She’d heard only two speak, but without looking there was no way to tell for sure. She had to act fast. This part of the hallway contained more broken furniture, neatly stacked like firewood, and the room beyond held the disassembled metal shell of a dryer, which the prisoners had folded out into a flat platform to contain their fires. A table leg in the pile of wood looked like it might make a good weapon, but Kira knew she had no chance in a club-versus-assault-rifle fight. She needed something better, something that used the only advantage she had right now: surprise. There was a large, ornate mirror leaning against the wall, which would be deadly but far too unwieldy to fight with, and an old 3D projector, which would be too lightweight to do any damage. She swore silently and reached for the table leg, knowing she was running out of time.