How many times had I rounded this corner, my hand tracing along the inside of the pointed switchback, just like this? I’d never traced along the outside wall. It was uneven, with jutting rocks that would leave bruises and cause me to trip. Staying on the inside was a shorter walk anyway.

When they’d first showed me that the V was not a V but a Y—two branches forking off from another tunnel, the tunnel—I’d felt pretty stupid. Like Jeb said, hiding things in plain sight was sometimes the cleverest route. The times I’d been desperate enough to even consider escaping the caves, my mind had skipped right over this place in my speculations. This was the hole, the prison. In my head, it was the darkest, deepest well in the caves. This was where they’d buried me.

Even Mel, sneakier than I was, had never dreamed that they’d held me captive just a few paces from the exit.

It wasn’t even the only exit. But the other was small and tight, a crawl space. I hadn’t found that one because I’d walked into these caves standing upright. I hadn’t been looking for that kind of tunnel. Besides, I’d never explored the edges of Doc’s hospital; I’d avoided it from the beginning.

The voice, familiar even though it seemed part of another life, interrupted my thoughts.

“I wonder how you’re still alive, eating like this. Ugh!”

Something plastic clattered against the rocks.

I could see the blue light as we rounded the last corner.

“I didn’t know humans had the patience to starve someone to death. That seems like too complex a plan for you shortsighted creatures to grasp.”

Jeb chuckled. “Gotta say, I’m impressed with those boys. Surprised they held up this long.”

We turned into the lit dead-end tunnel. Brandt and Aaron, both sitting as far as possible from the end of the tunnel where the Seeker paced, both with guns in their hands, sighed with relief when they saw us approaching.

“Finally,” Brandt muttered. His face was etched in hard lines of grief.

The Seeker halted in her pacing.

I was surprised to see the conditions she was kept in.

She was not stuffed into the tiny cramped hole, but comparatively free, stomping to and fro across the short width of the tunnel. On the floor, against the flat end of the tunnel, were a mat and a pillow. A plastic tray was tilted at an angle against the wall at about the midpoint of the cave; a few jicama roots lay scattered near it with a soup bowl. A little soup was splattered out from where that lay. This explained the clatter I’d just heard—she’d thrown her food. It looked as though she’d eaten most of it first, though.

I stared at this relatively humane setup and felt an odd pain in my stomach.