His head ached. His arms ached. His knee ached, and he wasn’t even sure why. He had a deep-seated suspicion that if he pulled his face off the pillow, he’d see that Zeke was holding a far-too-bright lantern that would blister his eyeballs. This did not encourage any rising or shining on his part.

“Fine then, I’ll just go by myself and tell everybody you were too chicken to come along.”

Still facedown, Rector complained, “You wouldn’t.”

“I might.”

Even though Rector didn’t care—and he didn’t—what Zeke did or didn’t tell anybody, he rolled over. The blanket twisted around his legs; he kicked his foot free and cracked open one eye. He was right about the lantern.

It burned.

“Tell ’em whatever you like.”

“You’re already awake,” Zeke noted. “Might as well get yourself up and do something useful.”

He opened the other eye. “Why don’t you drag Huey out to play with the inexplicable, if it’s so damn important to have company?”

“He didn’t want to come. He didn’t say that, but I know him well enough. It scared him, and he don’t want to see it again. I can’t blame him, except that I do.” Zeke gave Rector another shove for good measure, then withdrew—holding the lantern higher and farther away, thank God.

“He’s no dummy.” But he sat up, rubbed at his itching eyes, and yawned.

“He’s pretending he’s got work to do. He’s sticking close to the fort and pretending like he can’t leave. But the captain’s not even over there—he’s off someplace with my mother. I bet.”

“That must be strange.”

“Yeah, but what am I going to say about it? He’s all right, and even if he wasn’t, he could toss me over the wall with his pinky finger.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Rector reached for his boots—or whoever’s boots they were—and stuffed his feet inside them.

“Come on, hurry up.”

“Don’t rush me. I’m working on it.”

He almost knew the way to the outer blocks by now. He realized this at the same time he realized that he still wasn’t sure how to get back to the Station, so perhaps he’d made some kind of decision without noticing it.

Not worth wondering yet, not quite so soon.

The day was quiet after the night’s cacophony of violence and light. It was an odd thing, and it felt like distance, but it wasn’t, was it? The wall had a hole just a few blocks north; the city had a leak and terribly ill animals and dying people; and the tower was gone—blown to a million bricks by Huey’s handiwork on the clock-bomb.