“You suck at that,” Kenzie said, elbowing him. “Here.”

The image was distorted, as if viewing something underwater, with a film of grime on the lens. The sound, however, was only slightly muted.

“You really want this kid to suffer.”

“We want him to face a fate worse than death,” Snag said. “But we can’t have that and have him dead at the same time, and we need him dead. If he suffers as much as possible along the way to that conclusion, we’ll be satisfied.”

“If you’re paying, we can satisf—”

The message cut off as Kenzie hit a key. She looked back at me, shooting me what might’ve been an attempt at a reassuring smile. Not so reassuring.

“We’ll figure something out,” I said, to myself as much as them.

Shade Interlude 4a

It’s his turn tonight.

They ran, they pushed forward. A crush of people.

Smoke billowed, and it smelled like burning rubber. For all the chaos, the noises seemed muted, dulled in how the individual elements mixed, the bodies absorbing the sound. Shouts here and there cut through the cries, the noise of people, the sound of something falling down, but people further ahead in the crowd were actively grabbing others and shoving them to the side, dragging them out of the way.

Even with the high ceiling, the haze of smoke made the exit sign above the door hard to see. The point of view blurred, blacked out for an instant as the person blinked.

“Lancaster fire—” the point of view said, more to himself. His voice soon rose to a bellow. “Don’t—don’t stampede! Don’t shove! We’ll get crammed at the exit!”

The smoke got to him, and he coughed, hard.

He tried to slow, as if he could influence the crowd. The force of people behind him pushed him forward, as heavy as he was. He was a big guy. Big around the middle, more. Only a bit taller than average. It was enough that he could almost see over the heads of the crowd.

He saw a young girl fall, and very nearly tripped over her. To do so might have killed them both. He fell to his knees beside her, grabbing at the edge of a sign on the wall to brace himself, one arm around the girl. He became a barrier, battered by those behind him. Feet scraped at his back, trying to climb over him.

He watched as the people pushed further down. He knew what was happening as it happened. That the press of bodies was keeping people from being able to get the door open, that by the time people realized there was no way forward, the people behind them would keep them from retreating. There would only be the inexorable, forward pressure.