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are sore and my arms feel like jelly. I’d laugh at Kelly’s name for Jake, but I’m too tired.
    Kelly’s helping Reggie. That’s a hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle. Same story: walking but still weak. His face contorts under the strain. Only Tanya’s still completely out of it. Stephen’s pushing her in the wheelchair. His fingers are curled around the back of the seat, his knuckles white. He steps and pushes, steps and pushes, his head down, like he’s deep in thought.
    â€œLet me take Ashley,” Jake offers.
    I shake my head. We’re so close now that I want to finish this. Giving up now would be like admitting I’m weak.
    â€œTake the gun,” I tell him. He hesitates, then reaches over and tentatively pulls it free from my waistband, obviously sensitive to Kelly’s withering glare. Again: under different circumstances, I might have found it amusing.
    â€œAre you sure you don’t want me to take Ash instead?”
    â€œDamn it, Jake! Just do it!” I grit my teeth. Thirty feet. That’s as far as I have to go before we can rest.
    â€œI tried pinging you,” he says, following alongside. “You guys were taking so long. But I think my Link’s fried. It keeps sending me this error message.”
    â€œIt’s not fried, Pukeboy,” Kelly snaps. “It’s because we’re near the EM. The signal’s scrambled.”
    â€œOh. Stop calling me that.”
    â€œPukeboy.”
    â€œKel!” I roll my eyes. “Micah’s still out?”
    He’s still lying on the floor, snoring like a baby. I lower Ashley to the floor next to him. She crumples with a moan, her eyelids fluttering. A moment later Kelly drops Reggie next to her.
    Micah’s IV bag dangles from an old electrical bracket protruding from the wall. It’s completely dry. I’m certain I clamped it off back in the terminal, after knocking him out with Ash’s sedative. I remember checking it again when we left the tram to come back.
    â€œDid you touch this, Jake?”
    He shakes his head. I hurriedly check Micah’s pulse. It’s a bit slow, but strong. Last thing I’d want right now is for him to OD because of my carelessness.
    â€œHey!” Kelly shouts, startling the crap out of me. We look up and catch Stephen disappearing down the tunnel, still pushing Tanya. “Hey, asshole, where are you going? Stop! Where the hell does he think he’s going?”
    â€œStephen,” I yell, “we’re resting now!”
    I run over to him and stand in front. The chair bumps into my shins. Only then does he stop.
    â€œWhat the hell?”
    His face is completely blank. There’s not a trace of emotion on it, no pain or fatigue. Nothing.
    â€œHey,” Kelly says, grabbing his collar and shaking him. Stephen blinks once. “When we tell you to stop, you stop. Do you understand? I said, do you under—”
    Slowly, Stephen nods.
    â€œChrist,” Jake says. “What’s up with him? It’s like he’s—”
    â€œShut up, Jake,” I say, but the same thought has crossed my mind. It’s like he’s a zombie.
    â€œWhat’s up with him is the same thing that’s up with me and Jess,” Kelly snaps. “We’re freaking exhausted. We haven’t been sitting on our asses for the past two hours!”
    â€œHey!”
    â€œWe’ll rest for a few minutes,” I say, “but not too long. That guy I heard talking last night is probably on his way here on foot right now.”
    I go over and sit down, glancing back once to make sure Stephen doesn’t move. He just stands there like he’s brain dead or something.
    â€œAs soon as the others can walk on their own,” Kelly says, jerking his head in the direction of Long Island, “we’ll get the hell out of this place.”
    â€œGood, because I’m getting really sick of tunnels,” Jake