“What?” Sloan asked. “You’re smiling at me.”

“Nothing. Just day dreaming.”

“About me?” Sloan joked.

“Nope,” I said, keeping my thoughts to myself. I could have easily brought up an old memory, but I didn’t want to risk tipping anyone off if I was being watched.

At the end of the day, I brought the backpack I’d been adding supplies to for thirteen days to the gym. I did my usual workout, showered, changed into clean, dark clothes and sneakers. As I packed my things, I found a torn off piece of paper with words written in Trex’s handwriting.

You’re a desert flower.

-Trex

I held the paper to my chest then shoved it in my pocket, using the device to get me down Charlie corridor undetected. I slipped into an unused storage closet and waited.

The air was stuffy; I was surrounded by broken mops and brooms, solvents and old cans of paint. I sat on the cold cement floor for a while then leaned back to try to catch a few hours of sleep. The night would feel like years, and I had to be alert and keep my strength up. It was a possibility I’d have to carry Zeke for several miles if he was too weak to make the trek on his own. In a lower corner of the Black Forest was a second car I’d bought off some old man with cash two days after Peter had told me about Zeke. I checked my watch again. Time seemed to slow down, and waiting to slip into the ventilation shaft around the corner made me consider going into Deep Echo with guns blazing more than once. But finally, after nearly going mad, my watch showed it was midnight.

I stood, stretched, and clicked the button. When I cracked the door open, nothing happened. My shoes didn’t make a sound as I walked heel to toe down the hall and pulled a screwdriver from the lower pocket of my cargo pants, quickly working four screws from the cover. Once inside, I had to reach behind me and pull the vent closed—no small feat. Anyone taller than me wouldn’t have been able to do it.

For forty-five minutes, I army crawled through the ventilation system, using my hunting knife to mark my way in case Zeke had to make his way back without me. When the air kicked on, it was ten minutes of heaven. In between trying to move quickly, breathing stuffy air, and dripping with sweat, was most certainly a type of Hell. I could only hope Zeke could follow me for at least most of the way, or making it out would mean a bona fide miracle. My planned exit out of the warehouse would mean an even farther journey.