A hand over my mouth tore me away from the deep sleep I had been enjoying. I opened my eyes, fists clenching to lash out, when I saw Viggo’s face inches from my own. He looked grim, and pressed a finger to his lips. I nodded and he removed his hand.

I sat up on my elbow, clutching the sheet to me, while he went around the room. He tossed my borrowed pair of pants at me, and began packing up my bag in a hurry. I pulled the pants on under the sheets, then hurried to put my shoes on.

Standing up, I looked at him. “What is it?” I mouthed.

He shook his head, his eyes staring at the door that led to the upper level. “We need to move,” he whispered back. He held out the bag to me.

I took it, and almost fell over at the unexpected weight in there. Pausing to open it, I saw the gleaming silver case of the egg.

Looking up at Viggo, he shook his head again, and then nodded to the door leading down. “Move,” he commanded.

I hefted the backpack over my shoulder, and began to move as quickly as possible down the hall. I heard a clang upstairs just as I reached the door. Spinning the hand wheel, I pushed open the door, and stepped through. Viggo followed quickly, closing the door.

“I can’t barricade the door from this side,” he whispered.

Nodding, I headed down the stairs, trying to make my footsteps as quiet as possible on the corrugated metal of the stairwell. I could hear something banging from upstairs, and I looked over at Viggo, who shot me a smug grin.

“I barricaded it. It’ll buy us a little—”

He cut off as the sound of something screaming filled the air. It took me a second to realize that the sound was the straining of metal on metal.

“Go,” Viggo urged, gently pushing me back to the door to the next level.

I went. The door practically flew open under my hand and I stepped through, making my way across the orchard to the next door. Viggo closed the door behind us, tightening the hand wheel. I heard him fiddling with something, but I was too preoccupied with making it to the opposite door and opening it to pay attention.

The door swung open to the stairs, and I looked back. “Viggo,” I hissed. “Leave it. We’re wasting time.”

Viggo took a few steps back to check his work, when something on the other side of the door slammed into it so hard the door frame shuddered.

He began running toward me, waving me forward. I ran, leaping down the first flight of stairs and landing on the first landing. Viggo had already caught up, his legs tearing down the stairs two or three steps at a time.

My heart was pounding in my throat. “What did that?” I whispered, flinching. My whisper felt too loud in this small concrete space.

Viggo shook his head, his hands spinning the next hand wheel. “No idea. I think it’s best not to find out.”

The door swung open and we both stepped in. Viggo closed the door, and I raced to the couch. Grabbing one of the massive arms, I began to pull it toward the door, straining with effort.

“Leave it, Violet,” Viggo whispered.

“It’ll slow whatever it is down,” I insisted, digging my heels into the carpet and dragging it a few feet closer.

“We should keep moving,” he hissed, heading to the next door.

“Who do you think it is?” I asked, giving up on the couch and moving next to him.

He bent over to fiddle with his barricade. He had jammed a piece of iron pipe through the locking mechanism, and was now trying to pull it back out. I twisted the wheel, trying to give him slack, but it was already turned as far as it could go. His fingers were white, and I could see the cords of his muscles flexing as he pulled.

Gritting his teeth, he planted his feet on the door and began to pull using his whole body. Behind us, I could hear someone struggling with the hand wheel.

“I did too good a job on the door,” Viggo snarled, gripping the iron pipe tighter.

I quickly slid my arms around his waist and began to help him pull. Suddenly, there was a bang on the door, similar to the one from the level above.

Viggo and I froze. I released Viggo, and moved on all fours to the second couch, pushing it from the wall.

“C’mon,” I hissed at Viggo.

He shook his head, still straining against the bar. “They’ll know we’re still here if this door is still barricaded.”

I watched him pull, realizing he was right. The banging on the door was growing louder now. I looked at it, stunned to see that the metal was beginning to flex under the force of the hits.

“They have some sort of battering ram,” I breathed.

Viggo looked over his shoulder and gave a curse. He relinquished his grip on the bar and crawled over to me.

“We don’t have a lot of time. There’s got to be another way out of here.”

I shook my head, my eyes darting around. “There’s nothing. Only the two doors.”

Viggo was breathing heavily as he fitted his large form next to mine. We pressed in behind the couch, listening as the banging continued.

He pulled his gun out. “We can shoot it out,” he said, his green eyes studying mine.

I hesitated, my mind racing over the possibility. I shook my head. “No, we don’t know how many there are. They could be wearing tactical gear, and who knows what kind of weapons they have. It’s not smart.”

Viggo exhaled sharply. “Do you want to surrender to them?”

I thought about it for a second. It would guarantee temporary stay of execution, nothing more.

Frustrated by the lack of options, I kicked the wall, hard enough to make the vent to my left rattle. The rattle caught my attention, and I focused my gaze on the vent.

“Viggo,” I hissed, pointing at the vent.

He exchanged a glance with me, and then nodded. We crawled over to it.

Viggo slid his fingers through the grate, and began to pull. It didn’t want to come out, no matter how much Viggo pulled.

I ran my fingers over the edges, and found the holes for four screws, bolting it in place. Without hesitating, I pulled off my bag, positioning it between me and the wall, and fumbled around for my knife.

Pulling it out, I opened it up, and began attacking the screws. The banging had seemingly stopped, but I wasn’t going to waste time investigating why.

Viggo had noticed what I was doing, and reached in his pocket, pulling out his knife. We worked in tandem, sliding the tips of our knives into the slots of the screws, and turning.

“Lefty loosey, righty tighty,” I reminded myself, remembering my mother saying that one time when I had asked to help her hang some shelves.

Viggo frowned at me, and I shrugged. I caught the flash of a smile from him, and it almost made me forget my fear and smile with him. Almost.

The first screw I was working on slid out of the hole and fell to the floor. I blew a lock of hair out of my face, and started working on the other.

There was another bang, and I heard the sound of metal bending. The loud metal groan that filled the room made me want to cover my ears.

Viggo and I exchanged worried glances. My hands were shaking as I moved to the next screw, but I kept focus. I could barely hear the sound of voices coming from the hall, my heart was beating so loudly in my chest.

Viggo’s second screw fell to the floor, and he scooped them up and slipped them into his pocket. His eyes were now on me, urging me on voicelessly. I managed to catch the screw head with the tip of my knife, in spite of my shaking hands, and began twisting the knife to the left.

There were sounds coming from the door now, but I was too anxious to try and make sense of them. The screw slipped free finally, after what seemed like an eternity, and I exhaled in relief.

Viggo pried the grate from the wall, and grabbed my bag, sliding it in first. He then grabbed me by the shirt collar and started to shove me into the hole. The thin aluminum groaned under my weight and we both froze for a second, waiting to see if we had been noticed.

When nothing presented itself, Viggo’s hand pressed on my shoulders, urging me forward. Using my elbows, I wiggled into the pitch black hole. I came to a three-way intersection about four feet in, and wiggled around it to give Viggo enough room.

I waited for a second, but when Viggo didn’t follow, I pushed myself backward. It took some doing, but I managed to shift back far enough just in time to see Viggo placing the grate back over the hole.

“Viggo,” I hissed.

I couldn’t make out his face through the grate from that distance, but I heard his voice clear as day.

“Can’t fit. Besides, they know someone is in here, they just don’t know who.”

“Viggo!” I wheezed, a sudden panic overtaking me. There was no telling what they would do if they caught him.

“Calm down, Violet,” he whispered, his strong voice floating down the vent. I heard the scrape of the screws on the grate as he fit them in, finger tightening. “How many times have I rescued you?”

“What?” I gasped back, confused at the abrupt change of topic.

“They’re coming. The door is opening. How many times?”

I wriggled in the vent, maneuvering myself back toward the grate. “I don’t know! Why?”

I heard him slide the final screw in, twisting it with a grunt. Once it was done, he dipped his head down, so I could see his face. I reached for the grate, trying to grab it.

“It’s your turn to rescue me now, Vi,” he whispered, a small sad smile playing on his lips.

I bit back my cry, but tears were dripping down my face. I couldn’t lose Viggo—not now. We’d been through too much.

“They’re coming,” he whispered. “Move away from the grate.”

I watched as he disappeared from sight, his fingers coming through the grate. He heaved at it, like he was trying to pull it out, but I realized it was an act. I slowly backed away from the grate, obscuring myself in the darkness of the vent.

I had bitten back my tears and all sounds, when I heard someone speak.

“Well, well. Looks like we found a rat,” came a feminine voice caked with amusement and menace.

“Oh. Hello… ladies,” Viggo said, his fingers sliding back through the holes slowly. I could imagine him holding up his hands, trying to act cool and calm.

“Where is Violet Bates?” a second voice asked, her tone flat and even.

“Beats me. I’m just looking for my dog. Have you seen him? Brown fur, answers to the name—”

There was a wet cracking sound, one I recognized as flesh striking flesh, followed by a boneless sound of someone’s body hitting the floor. I covered my mouth with both hands to keep my cries from escaping.