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cozy even, which is absurd and makes me smile. At a questioning grunt from Connor, I say, “Nothing. It’s a bit like a playhouse under here.”
    He smiles back at me and pats my shoulder. “You’re such an idiot,” he says and I hold back a laugh. I know it’s just tension making us do this, but it’s still funny for a few seconds.
    We shuffle along under the overhang till we’re closer to the door side of it, but not so far that the camera will see us. Once there, we’ve got nothing to do but crouch and wait. It seems to take forever and my thighs start to burn from the crouch. Somehow, it doesn’t seem right to sit down so I stick it out. The burn tells me it’s been more than a minute or two, more like five.
    I worry at a hangnail until it tears free with a sharp burst of pain, then clench my fist to prevent me from biting my fingernails. It’s probably just stress, but it seems like the air is getting thicker. Pulling in each breath feels like work. It feels exactly the same as when I pull the covers up over my head in winter and the air immediately gets stale and stuffy.
    I’m just to the point of convincing myself I’ve got to go back to the corner where I can stand up and get a full breath when the door opens and a wedge of light spills out. Jovan leans out and motions us forward impatiently.
    Connor follows me out from under the overhang and flips a rude gesture at the sign above the door that reads “Total Freedom Total Responsibility.” I can breathe again, but my heart is pounding and I could swear that my stomach is doing flips inside me.
    Jovan eyes me, a question in his expression, and I answer, “I’m fine.”
    He ushers us inside and pulls the door closed so carefully it doesn’t make even a whisper of noise. He holds a finger to his lips and leads us through the area where prisoners are processed. I remember it well from my own strike.
    There’s the sound of a loud laugh beyond the closed door on the other side of the space. At the sound, my heart hammers in my chest. They are too close. The distance of a single room lies between us and them. The same distance lies between us being illicit visitors and us becoming prisoners in those cells.
    I shake the thought away, and we all unfreeze as the laughter fades. Jovan’s sigh is louder than any noise we’ve made so far. I tap him on the back, and then hold a finger to my lips when he turns.
    Only a few lights are burning. Even here there are economies to be made and power doesn’t grow on trees. Even if it did, this part of Texas isn’t exactly covered in those either. The patches of light on the walls and floor are unsettling and make me more nervous. I can hear Connor breathing heavily behind me so I know it’s not just me.
    Jovan opens the door to the cells but stops me with a hand before I can walk past him. He bends so close I can feel his breath on my cheek when he whispers, “Five minutes, Karas. No more. They’re on edge tonight.”
    The seriousness of his expression stalls any smart comment I might be otherwise tempted to make. Really, on edge? Like we’re not. Still, five minutes with the father I’ve never known, but always dreamed of, seems a paltry amount of time. Then again, no amount of time would really be enough.
    Connor gives a tight nod at that. I don’t look at Jovan again but enter the dim cell block, eyes searching. I’m not sure what I expected, maybe for him to shut the door and call to his soldier friends or, at best, take a spot at the doorway and watch our backs. I know for sure that I didn’t expect him to say what he does.
    “I’m sorry I can’t give you longer,” he whispers far too loudly.
    Maybe it’s the tone of his voice, or the kindness of his words, but a lump forms in my throat. If I turn back, I’ll start to cry and I don’t want to do that. Instead, I turn my head just enough for him to know I’ve heard him and nod. There’s no time for more.

Chapter Six
    Every second I waste is one