Camilla asked, “Why not get everyone out?”
Pash said to the Angel, “Come on, Aim. Even the zombie sees reason. Get in the kitchen,” but the Angel—Aim—said, “If they don’t see me, they won’t hesitate to use projectiles.”
Camilla said, “The longer we exchange fire, the worse. Once we break the first wave, push.”
“Hect, let’s get one thing straight: I’m giving the orders and if you don’t say Yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir, I shoot out your kneecaps and use you as a meat shield,” said Pash.
“Three bags full of what?” said Camilla.
“Fucking whoop-ass if you don’t do what I say, comedian.”
“I’ll keep to melee. No friendly fire.”
Pash aggressively pulled her mask up over her mouth, a hard-shell plastic snap one with a bit for breathing through. Nona couldn’t help admiring her: her dark-rimmed greasepaint made her eyes a lovely hazelly, yellowy green colour. Pash saw Nona looking at her soppily, scowled at her with her whole face, then drew a pair of goggles over those beautiful dark-rimmed eyes. Nona vaguely made a note to practise scowling, and also to dye her hair.
There was another, less distant smash. Pash tensed up and said, “They’re taking the stairs.” Beside Nona, absurdly, Camilla relaxed. She was crouched behind the desk doing something with the snaps of her baggy canvas trousers, digging her hands into her capacious pockets. She said, “Nona, do you want to go, or stay?”
Nona dithered.
“Go. No, stay—no, I’ll go,” she said. “Hot Sauce needs me. Unless—Camilla, please be safe, I love you so much.”
“This won’t take long. Go when I say go,” said Cam, and she smiled at Nona—smiled her lovely, exquisite little smile, the one that made Nona feel like she really could fall in love with Camilla forever and forever and get married to her and maybe adopt a dog.
Then she said to Pash— “Do you want them alive?”
Pash’s expression hardened further.
“No.”
“Nona,” said Cam, “don’t come back until we come to get you. Go.”
Nona fled. She scrabbled for the door next to the staffroom door and flung herself through, then shut it behind her. Her footsteps squeaked on the linoleum and the door creaked horribly, because Kevin loved to hang on doors and try to make them make the longest and worst sounds he possibly could—it sounded like a siren in that silence, worse than, and she was grateful when the door closed behind her. Then she flew down the dark, dim corridor—a place of unspeakable and enjoyable terror for her and the gang normally, it was so narrow and the walls were so dark and sweaty—and when she got to the generator room, hammered on the door before she remembered that she was the one who had to unlock it. The key was still in the lock. She turned it with sweaty fingers and drew back the bolt, she nearly tripped down the short flight of stairs, and she said, “It’s me, Hot Sauce, it’s me,” before clanging the door shut again behind her.
The generator room was quiet and dark, except for a little lightbox window over the internal door and another one through to the outside, only there was a taller building in the way, so it let in sickly, greenish light. When the generator was on it usually made a lot of violent whuffling noises, the kind that threw the tinies into disorder because Honesty had told them it was powered by kids their age burning to death inside. It wasn’t like they believed him, but they hated the story. Hot Sauce was lying curled up in front of the generator. She’d been sick, and there was a bright, acid smell of vomit, but Nona didn’t care. She went to Hot Sauce’s side, and she rolled her over.
Hot Sauce looked at her, but also didn’t look at her. Her eyes were strange. She looked at Nona as Nona got out an old wad of tissue paper from her pocket and wiped Hot Sauce’s mouth and nose. “It’s me, Hot Sauce. It’s Nona.”
Hot Sauce said clearly— “I made it up?”
Nona didn’t know what this meant so she said, “Yes, it’s fine. I’m fine,” so that Hot Sauce said, more strongly and more wonderingly, “I made it up.”
“Yes, only there are people in the building, and we have to stay here because they’ve come to kidnap the Angel,” said Nona.
Hot Sauce said, “She had a bodyguard.”
“Yes,” said Nona.
“Stupid,” said Hot Sauce. “Stupid … didn’t watch her enough. Didn’t read the signs. Didn’t watch … Nona, I made it up?”