“What is that?” I ask, but I don’t need to wait for an answer as three attack drones, identical to the ones that used to guard the Loop during our exercise hour, float into view through the enormous kitchen window.

The thin strip of light encircling the closest drone turns from green to red, and the low-hanging cannons take aim.

As the first dart pierces the windowpane, sending raindrops of glass shimmering down, I know that I am doomed. The darts will be filled with a combination of hallucinogens and a drug called Crawl. Crawl slows down all bodily functions: heart rate, respiration, and brain chemistry. It’s what they used in the Loop to stop us trying to climb the walls. Drone poison is a hellish cocktail that leaves the victim in a nightmare world of terrifying visions that feel like they last a hundred years.

I close my eyes, waiting for the impact of the dart, but it doesn’t come. In the commotion of the drones, I hadn’t noticed the Smiler had gotten to his feet and lunged at me. The dart has struck him above the temple, and he is wavering on his feet.

Sam and I don’t wait around to see what happens next. She grabs my hand and runs, dragging me toward the front door. As I haul it shut behind us, I hear two more darts thudding into the heavy wood.

“They must’ve heard the gunshot,” Sam pants, running fast, still holding my hand as I grip the headset in the other.

The whirring sound of the drones grows once more as we sprint toward the spiral road. They have moved up and flown over the house in seconds, and now they’re tracking us, lowering down to our level to fire again.

Sam hands me the heavy old pistol and draws her USW gun from her backpack. She stops running, turns and drops to one knee, firing four rounds at the nearest drone. The relentless whirring sound stutters and chokes and the drone falls from the sky.

I turn and aim the pistol at the drone closest to me. I fire five times, hitting it twice, which is enough to damage one of its rotors. It dips to the left as it fires another dart, this one so close that it tugs at the shoulder of my prison jumpsuit.

I fire four more rounds and hit it again. It loses control and thunders into the ground, smashing into pieces.

We stand on the lawn of the mansion, waiting in the charged silence for whatever comes next.

“We have to move,” Sam whispers.

And, again, the silence is broken by the sound of engines, this time louder, like rolling thunder.

Over the edge of City Level Two, a large military vehicle hovers up and four soldiers disembark.

“Go!” I yell, and push Sam away from the Alt soldiers.