“I can’t think of anything else,” Pod says, shrugging his big shoulders.

“Nah, it’s nothing,” I say, conceding.

“Oh, wait,” Pod says, holding a finger up, “because I’m blind?”

“Yes!” I reply, a little too enthusiastically.

“Right, I get it, because I can’t see, you think I’m incapable of saving your life?”

“No, no, no, that’s not it—”

“You think that because I’m blind, I’m not a valuable member of the team?”

“Not at all, I would never think …”

Pod starts laughing and slaps a massive hand on my back. I almost face-plant into the rails. “You are too easy to wind up, Luka,” he says through bouts of laughter. “Of course I shouldn’t have been able to grab you; I’m blind, for crying out loud. I mean, in perfect silence I might have been able to gauge where you are by your movements, but come on!”

I laugh too, a little less enthusiastically than Pod.

“So, how did you manage it?”

“My eyes are fixing themselves,” Pod says. “Slowly, very slowly, but I can see shadows, and—if it’s really bright—I can see the outlines of shapes. Pretty soon I’ll be able to see faces, and trees, and the ocean. Don’t get me wrong, Luka, I hate Happy for what it did to us, to the world, but that last Delay is giving me my sight back.”

Of course, I think, that’s why Pander doesn’t have her hearing aids or glasses either. I smile up at my friend. “I’m happy for you, Pod.”

And my happiness for Pod only reminds me that I’m free. I’m free, I’m fucking free!

My good mood lasts about four seconds before it is evaporated by a sound like the crack of a whip echoing through the corridor, followed by another and another and another.

“What the hell is that?” Akimi asks from ahead of us.

Igby comes sprinting back toward the group as the sounds grow closer, almost booming now. And the darkness of the tunnels seems to withdraw as the sound grows. I turn to face the source, and see, far in the distance, sets of bright lights on the ceiling coming on, one after the other. Some are missing, the ancient bulbs blown, some explode in a shower of embers as electricity flows through them for the first time in decades, but most still work.

Finally, the lights above us burst into thunderous life and then move on ahead, illuminating the once-pitch-black tunnel.

“How?” Igby asks. “We’re inside the radius of the scrambler; they shouldn’t be able to find us …” Igby’s eyes grow wide as they settle on Wren. “Where is her hat?” he asks quietly, and then, louder, “When did she take it off?”

We all turn to face Wren, who looks back at us defiantly.

“I don’t know,” Pander says.