Houston injected Deimos with the unknown substance. Romy wondered how much he had. She wouldn’t mind some to keep her awake another couple of nights.

“We’ll be moving fast. Keep up, or die,” Atlas said.

He wasn’t exaggerating about the pace. It was closer to a run than a walk. Her pack bounced up and down in a heavy beat, dragging at her shoulders.

Even with the injection, a few hours later, Deimos began to flag.

If Romy had never gone to Atlas’s office that night, then Deimos wouldn’t be pushing himself to the edge of exhaustion. A long, thin crack appeared in the glass of her mind. She stumbled over a tree root in the physical world, scrambling to regain her feet.

“Leave the bags,” Atlas ordered.

Romy’s mouth dried. They needed their supplies. The others had shirked theirs and Atlas shoved them into the brush, out of sight.

Her hands hovered above the straps.

“We don’t have time for this.” Atlas pushed the straps from her shoulders.

“Wait!” she cried, quickly retrieving something. He threw the bag into the bush, eyeing the map clutched in her hand.

Next, he reached for her AK-103. She turned that side of her body away and scowled at him.

He conceded and reached for her hand before stopping himself. “I’ll come back for the packs once it’s safe.”

She swallowed her disbelief, flashing a placated smile.

His eyes narrowed as he began jogging, pulling her along. “I want you to stay up front with me.”

Before, they’d jogged. Now they ran. The sun rose, the looming trunks turning a haunting grey in the dim light of dawn. A tension filled the air and Romy couldn’t be sure if it was generated from their group of seven, or because some sixth sense told her hunters were close.

They didn’t stop.

A glance over her shoulder told Romy that the others were taking turns helping Deimos. But their pace was dropping further and further to accommodate his gasping weakness. Romy could almost feel Atlas’s frustration. Could interpret from it that if their speed didn’t pick up they would have problems.

Elara yelled from the back as Deimos tumbled forwards and crashed to the ground.

The rest of the knot rushed forwards, but Romy stayed where she was, watching Atlas’s face. Furrows of worry riveted his brow.

Atlas spoke softly. “He has to be left behind.”

Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t that. “No.”

He looked up, surprised to see her there.

“We have to.” He gestured to his ear. “We’re two hours away from the bunker. They can’t find us there. But we have to get there first.” Atlas grabbed her shoulders and turned her to the right.

“That hill,” he said. “We need to get over that hill.”