My hands were stinging when I was done, the dry cracks on my knuckles burning worst of all. I rinsed them in the water, but it made no noticeable difference. I sighed and climbed out to get dressed.

I’d left my dry clothes on the loose rocks in the back corner. I kicked a stone by accident, hard enough to hurt my bare foot, and it clattered loudly across the room, bouncing off the wall and landing with a plunk and a gurgle in the pool. The sound made me jump, though it wasn’t all that loud next to the roar of the hot river in the outer room.

I was just shoving my feet into my scruffy tennis shoes when my turn was up.

“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice called from the dark entry.

“Good morning, Ian,” I said. “I’m just done. Did you sleep well?”

“Ian’s still sleeping,” Ian’s voice answered. “I’m sure that won’t last forever, though, so we’d best get on with this.”

Splinters of ice pinned my joints in place. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

I’d noticed it before, and then forgotten it in the long weeks of Kyle’s absence: not only did Ian and his brother look very much alike, but—when Kyle spoke at a normal volume, which so rarely happened—they also had exactly the same voice.

There was no air. I was trapped in this black hole with Kyle at the door. There was no way out.

Keep quiet! Melanie shrieked in my head.

I could do that. There was no air to scream with.

Listen!

I did as I was told, trying to focus in spite of the fear that stabbed through my head like a million slender spears of ice.

I couldn’t hear anything. Was Kyle waiting for a response? Was he sneaking around the room in silence? I listened harder, but the rush of the river covered any sounds.

Quick, grab a rock! Melanie ordered.

Why?

I saw myself crashing a rough stone against Kyle’s head.

I can’t do it!

Then we’re going to die! she screamed back at me. I can do it! Let me!

There has to be another way, I moaned, but I forced my ice-locked knees to bend. My hands searched the darkness and came up with a large, jagged rock and a handful of pebbles.

Fight or flight.

In desperation, I tried to unlock Melanie, to let her out. I couldn’t find the door—my hands were still my own, clutched uselessly around the objects I could never make into weapons.

A noise. A tiny splash as something entered the stream that drained the pool into the latrine room. Only a few yards away.

Give me my hands!

I don’t know how! Take them!