I sigh, and a puff of dusts swirls off the counter and dances in the moonlight. I rub my fingers over the bridge of my nose. My legs ache from the long walk here. My shoulders are in knots. We have no food or water, no weapons of any kind. I rub my hand over my face. What the hell am I gonna do?

“How we gonna get in?” The garbage crinkles under his feet as Ethan takes a few steps toward the door and peers up.

I shake my head and rub my hand over my stiff neck. There’s a tender stab of pain at my hairline where Clay dug out my tracker. Then it hits me.

I reach into my pocket. There, at the bottom, is the little metal disk the size of a button. Carefully I draw out the microchip and hold it up to the light. But will it work?

Ethan peers at the little disk. “What is it?”

“A locator,” I say, tilting it ever so slightly in the light. “Betsy said the energy from my body activated it.” I peer into the dark cave that used to be a sandwich shop. “We need to find a knife, something sharp. Then I’m going to need your help.”

* * *

I press a strip torn from my shirt to the back of my neck and wince at the pain. Ethan re-implanted the transmitter. He said it started glowing a few minutes after we pressed it in the fold of my skin. Now he crouches beside me next to some smelly dumpsters at the back of the hospital. Black garbage bags peak over the lips of the metal bins. Some of the bags are torn open and garbage litters the ground. I push away a soiled cloth with my boot. Garbage pickers have been here. If we get spotted, it’ll be a good cover story—that we’re scavenging. I keep telling myself this as I sit with my back pressed to the stinky metal bin, my knees to my chest, my fists clenched at my sides. At least one part of my plan makes sense.

Yeah, but the rest of it’s a mess, that nasty voice in my head says. Even if the receiver still works, which is unlikely, and Betsy sees it, which will never happen, will she even care enough to creep downstairs and let you in? Then you’ll have to skirt the guards, find Mama, get her unhooked and get the hell out, all with Ethan at your side.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Nothing is more impossible.

In five hours it’ll be morning. And if the Sheriff’s right, it’ll be my mama’s last day alive. I take a deep breath and silence the voice in my head. There’s no time for plans, only action.