I drag my still-weak body to the next cell. For all of the thirty days inside the Block I have been hoping that Kina and Malachai are still alive. They were not included on Happy’s list of surviving escapees, so they are either dead or captured.

I try the thick metal spin handle of the cell beside mine—it doesn’t budge. A panel beside the door asks for iris identification. I drop Jacob’s gun to the floor and take a closer look at the panel, trying to find another way to unlock it.

“Hey!” a voice calls to my left.

I turn to see a woman of about fifty striding toward me, her hand reaching for the USW pistol on her belt.

I run toward her, fighting against the aching in my limbs and joints. Her eyes grow wide as I close the gap and she struggles to grip and draw her weapon.

I get to her just as she frees her pistol. I twist her arm behind her back—wresting the gun from her hand and pushing the barrel into her spine. I hear a snap from my broken fingers and feel them begin to click back into place; the pain of the bones grinding together almost makes me drop my newly acquired weapon, but I hold on.

“If you activate any alarms, send any silent distress codes, if I see one other soldier coming toward me—I will shoot you, do you understand?”

“Do you honestly think you’ll get out of here alive?” the woman grunts.

“This isn’t my first prison break.”

“Galen Rye will—”

“Shut up,” I tell her. “Kina Campbell, where is she?”

“I’m not telling you anyth—”

I aim the gun at her foot and pull the trigger. She opens her mouth to cry out, and for a second there is only silence, her face almost comical in its shock. And then she’s screaming.

“I won’t ask you again,” I hiss. “Kina Campbell’s cell, where is it?”

She stumbles forward a step and then points to a cell two down from my own. I feel a moment of absolute relief. She’s alive; Kina is alive.

“Who else have they got?” I ask. “Malachai?”

The guard bites her lower lip, defiance in her eyes. I aim the gun at her other foot.

“Wren Salter,” she gasps, holding out a hand to stop me from shooting. “She’s next door to you, Malachai Bannister is next to Kina, and Woods Rafka is there.” She points two cells down from Kina’s.

“Why are the other cells empty?” I ask. “Where did you take the Block inmates?”

“We didn’t take them anywhere. They died.”

“What?” I ask, immediately shaken by her answer.

“They died, all of them. It’s only you lot from the Loop that are still alive.”