They heard pounding footsteps behind them and looked back to see a flashlight beam scouring the darkness, bouncing off the walls. The Kid whipped his lighter out and lit it one-handed. They saw an exit sign and followed it. They ran down a short tunnel, turned to the right, and spotted some escalators. Two of them, going up, with stairs between them.

“That way,” the Kid hissed, and they darted up the middle. It was easier taking the stairs than the stationary escalators, which had taller steps.

When they got to the top, Rhiannon was wheezing and panting, doubled over in pain. It was obvious they’d need to stop soon. But when the Kid flicked on the lighter, they saw that they were faced with more stairs and an exit sign pointing to the right.

“We’ve got to keep going,” Sam said to Rhiannon, who couldn’t speak.

“We must,” said Sam, and he shook her.

Rhiannon gulped. Nodded. The boys took her arms and dragged her along again.

Another tunnel. Another escalator. Dim light filtering down from above.

“We must be nearly there,” said Sam. “Once we’re outside it’ll be easier.”

“I-won’t-make-it-up-there. . . .” said Rhiannon, every word hurting her.

Sam looked around. There would have been two escalators here, but one of them had evidently been under repair. It was boarded off. There was only the one way up and down. There was a pile of trash dumped at the foot of the out-of-order escalator. Bits of plywood and wire and sheets of cardboard.

The footsteps were getting nearer. The flashlight beam was shining along the tunnel they had just come through.

Sam nodded to the pile of trash, not daring to speak.

The three of them climbed behind some cardboard and ducked down, huddled together, trying to make themselves small. Rhiannon was still fighting for breath.

“I can’t go on,” she wheezed. “I feel like I’m going to explode. I’m so dizzy. Don’t make me. Please . . .”

“Shhh,” said the Kid. “Be quiet now.”

Sam made sure he could see what was going on, peeking from behind a flap of cardboard. He watched Nick come charging down the tunnel, his flashlight in one hand, his sawed-off shotgun in the other. Behind him came Rachel, also carrying a flashlight. They both shone their beams quickly up the escalator.

Rachel swore. “Did they go up?”

“Dunno. Couldn’t hear anything,” said Nick.

“Have they gotten away?”

“They can’t have,” said Nick. “They was only just ahead of us.”

“Did they go the other way, then?”

“Could have. Could be anywhere.”

Rachel looked back up the escalator. Something was making her nervous.

“Maybe we should let them go, lover?”

“Let them go?” said Nick. “After all the food we’ve wasted on them?”

“I don’t want to go up top.”

“Maybe they’re not up there,” said Nick. “Maybe they never made it this far.”