I need to find Ibrahim.
Just as I’m about to step back, I notice a flash of movement in the tank. The water trembles within, begins to thrash.
A hand slams hard against the glass.
I gasp.
Slowly, the hand retreats.
I stand there, frozen in fear and fascination, when someone clamps down on my arm.
This time, I almost scream.
“Where have you been?” Ibrahim says angrily.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I say quickly. “I got lost. The smoke was so thick that I—”
“What are you talking about? What smoke?”
The words die in my throat. I thought I saw smoke. Was there no smoke? Is this another test?
Ibrahim sighs. “Come with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
This time, I keep my eyes on Ibrahim at all times.
And this time, when we walk through the darkened laboratory into a blindingly bright, circular room, I know I’m in the right place. Because something is wrong.
Someone is dead.
KENJI
When we finally make it to the compound, I’m exhausted, thirsty, and really have to use the bathroom. Warner is none of those things, apparently, because Warner is made of uranium or plutonium or some shit, so I have to beg him to let me take a quick break. And by begging him I mean I grab him by the back of the shirt and force him to slow down—and then I basically collapse behind a wall. Warner shoves away from me, and the sound of his irritated exhalation is all I need to know that my “break” is half a second from over.
“We don’t take breaks,” he says sharply. “If you can’t keep up, stay here.”
“Bro, I’m not asking to stop. I’m not even asking for a real break. I just need a second to catch my breath. Two seconds. Maybe five seconds. That’s not crazy. And just because I have to catch my breath doesn’t mean I don’t love J. It means we just ran like a thousand miles. It means my lungs aren’t made of steel.”
“Two miles,” he says. “We ran two miles.”
“In the sun. Uphill. You’re in a fucking suit. Do you even sweat? How are you not tired?”
“If by now you don’t understand, I certainly can’t teach you.”
I haul myself to my feet. We start moving again.
“I’m not sure I even want to know what you’re talking about,” I say, lowering my voice as I reach for my gun. We’re rounding the corner to the entrance, where our big, fancy plan to break into the building involves waiting for someone to open the door, and catching that door before it closes.
No luck yet.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“What?” Warner sounds annoyed.
“How’d you end up proposing?”
Silence.
“Come on, bro. I’m curious. Also, I, uh, really have to pee, so if you don’t distract me right now all I’m going to think about is how much I have to pee.”
“You know, sometimes I wish I could remove the part of my brain that stores the things you say to me.”
I ignore that.
“So? How’d you do it?” Someone comes through the door and I tense, ready to jump forward, but there’s not enough time. My body relaxes back against the wall. “Did you get the ring like I told you to?”
“No.”
“What? What do you mean, no?” I hesitate. “Did you at least, like, light a candle? Make her dinner?”
“No.”
“Buy her chocolates? Get down on one knee?”
“No.”
“No? No, you didn’t do even one of those things? None of them?” My whispers are turning into whisper-yells. “You didn’t do a single thing I told you to do?”
“No.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Why does it matter?” he asks. “She said yes.”
I groan. “You’re the worst, you know that? The worst. You don’t deserve her.”
Warner sighs. “I thought that was already obvious.”
“Hey— Don’t you dare make me feel sorry for y—”
I cut myself off when the door suddenly opens. A small group of doctors （scientists? I don’t know） exits the building, and Warner and I jump to our feet and get into position. This group has just enough people—and they take just long enough exiting—that when I grab the door and hold it open for a few seconds longer, it doesn’t seem to register.
We’re in.
And we’ve only been inside for less than a second before Warner slams me into the wall, knocking the air from my lungs.