She dug in her small pack for the bandages. They were the small kind, with sticky sides. She had brought the colorful ones with cartoons on them for luck, and now she placed them over her wounds, along with little bits of cotton and fabric to soak up the blood.

It seemed like there were more people who came and went than there were stars in the sky, but her senses might have been playing tricks on her.

The trickle of people slowed. When some made early returns, they smelled like food. Midday meals, then. She waited until everyone was back and working, sluggish from the food in their bellies, and then she made her move.

Up the underside of the stairs to the second floor. Into a crack between a booth and the wall. Up to the third floor, in a similar way.

There was security guarding the way from the fourth floor to the fifth. A commotion gave her a chance to slip through. It helped that she was small and it helped more that she was experienced.

Now she explored. The fifth floor didn’t seem much like a prison. The sixth was closer, with more security, more computers, more monitors.

She heard a voice, and she caught a familiar name.

“…Rinke.”

“I don’t see the point. He’s a broken man.”

Dot clutched at her chest, just over her heart.

“He’s a great man. Him being broken or not broken doesn’t change that.”

“I don’t see the point, Riley. I don’t think I’d gain anything, and I don’t think the people I care the most about would be very happy about me hanging around with him.”

“You hang around with me.”

“Someone has to check your work.”

“Whatever. I’m going to go talk to him. I think you should join us. You can check my work after, we’ll make it fast.”

The pair started to walk away. Dot checked the coast was clear, then followed.

Up to the seventh floor, then higher. Her body ached, every one of her movements harder than they had been before she had started climbing up to the top of this monstrous building, but she knew she was close.

A dining hall, with lots of tables, and a kitchen off to one side. It smelled like a hundred different foods.

The two girls didn’t talk much as they walked. The younger one was on the cusp of adulthood, but she smelled like blood and sickness. She was blonde, wearing a dress.

The older one had crossed the threshold to adulthood. Her arms were striped or marked somehow, almost completely covered with freckles, and her brown hair was tied back into a ponytail. She wore jeans and a top with spaghetti straps, and had a jacket folded over her arms, which she held close to her body.

“You don’t find it sad? Spending time around him like this?”