“Got it. Rector, you go on ahead. We’re right behind you. Hold the rail if you feel the need. Ain’t no shame in it, ’cause these things are slippery sometimes.”

Rector cringed, but stepped up onto the bottom stair and gripped the skinny metal rail. Under his bare hands, it felt coated in slime. “Wish I had some gloves.”

“Aw, shit. I didn’t notice,” Zeke said, climbing onto the structure and following Rector. “We’ll get you some back in the Vaults, or maybe we can beg some off Yaozu if we ask real nice. You can’t run around like that—the air will burn you if you let it go too long. There’s a lot to learn about living down here. Not everybody’s up to it.”

“I’m up to living here, or anywhere else,” Rector boasted, but the squeak of exhaustion in his voice undid his claim.

“Ten minutes ago, you weren’t up to stairs,” Houjin pointed out.

Rector grumbled, “Hush up.” But he kept climbing, clinging to the rail and hauling himself forward, upward, and onto a platform big enough to hold all three of them.

They stood there shivering as Houjin flipped another latch on a door that looked no hardier than wet paper. “Inside, and we’re safe,” he promised. “I’ll pull the stairs up behind us.”

Again, Rector went first.

He let himself inside through a doorframe that was actually a large window frame. The darkness within this new space reminded him of the orphan’s home, except that most of the windows were broken. This was a dingy place occupied by dust, trash, and leftover scraps of nothing useful.

Rector leaned forward, resting his hands on the tops of his legs and hanging his head down low. He desperately wanted to shut his eyes. More desperately than that he wanted to lie down, and more desperately still, he wanted to sleep for another four days.

“We have to keep moving, Wreck,” Zeke nudged him. “Yaozu’s men will have the message back to him by now, saying you’re coming.”

Rector snapped, “Give me a minute,” without raising his head.

Houjin shook his head. “You’re not used to breathing in these masks. It’s hard at first, but you’ll learn.”

“It’s not the mask. I hurt all over. It’s been a rough week.” But now that he’d denied it, he realized Huey might be right. In addition to the aches radiating from the bruises on his back, arms, and legs, he felt a cramping tightness in his chest with every breath he drew. “How much farther, anyway? And will there be more stairs?”

Houjin speculated, “Maybe half a mile. But from here on out, all the stairs go down.”

“Half a mile, I don’t like. All downstairs, I can live with.”

“Then keep moving,” Zeke said.

“Stop being so goddamn pushy.”

“I’m trying to help.”