By the time we round the second corner, my lungs feel like they're lined with frost. The cryo pod rattles over broken tiles, its casters squealing with every jolt. Eli floats inside the harness, face pale and still under the soft blue hum of the status strip. Marcus is half-pushing, half-bracing the thing behind me, boots slipping on cracked linoleum.
"Where?" he grunts. "Please tell me you're not just following the vibes of doom."
"There's another med unit down here," I say, not slowing. "A smaller wing. Backup power. Secondary racks."
"Is that a guess," he huffs, "or one of your… weird downloads?"
"It's not a guess."
I don't explain that I see the map like someone stamped it behind my eyes. I don't explain that I've walked this route before, even though I shouldn't remember any of it.
"This is an apocalypse," Marcus mutters.
"It's not an apocalypse," I correct instantly. "It's dystopian. That's different."
"Oh, great," he snaps. "Good to know we're dying in the correct subgenre."
We reach the end of the corridor. A sign hangs crooked on one twisted screw:
SUB-MED UNIT C — AUXILIARY ACCESS
The door has a dent the size of a human shoulder in it, but it's still on its tracks. I shove it open. Inside is a narrow hall, cleaner than the others, strips of emergency lights flickering in pale red pulses.
And there—blessedly—mounted against the wall like a forgotten shrine:
A small, intact cryo receptacle.A single-slot rack.Manual clamps.Offline, but not dead.
Perfect.
I don't hesitate. I steer the pod toward it, and Marcus follows, breathing hard.
"I swear you've done this before," he mutters as I grab the side handles and angle the pod with practiced precision.
"I have," I whisper—before I can stop myself.
He freezes. "Wait—what?"
"Help me tilt it," I deflect. "Left… now."
He obeys. Together, we slot the pod into the rack. The contact rails align with a clean click. I move around the unit fast—hands flying over clamps, couplings, switches I have no business recognizing but somehow do. Marcus stands there watching like I'm doing surgery on an alien egg.
The overhead emergency light flickers.
"There," I say, snapping the last seal into place. "He's hooked."
Marcus leans forward, staring at Eli through the frost-clouded glass. "He doesn't look good."
"He's stable," I say. "As stable as we can make him without a cure."
"A cure that," he points out, "we don't know exists."
"Oh, it exists."The conviction in my voice surprises us both.I gesture loosely at the hall around us."You don't build this much cryo without something to counteract the thing that causes the need for cryo."
"That's not scientific reasoning," he says.
"It's survival reasoning."
The rack sputters once, then a weak, grainy panel on the wall flickers to life:
AUX POWER: 18%SYSTEM ESTIMATE: 3 HOURS, 11 MINUTES
Marcus swears quietly. "Three hours."
"We can work for three hours," I say.
"We?" He straightens. "Who's 'we'? You're planning something, aren't you?"
I take one step back from the pod.
Then another.
He's watching me like he already knows.
"You're going into the lab," he says flatly. "Alone."
"Yes."
"You're insane."
"Probably."
"And stupid."
"Possibly."
"And reckless."
"Definitely."
"For a kid you just met yesterday?"
I look at Eli. He seems impossibly small in the frost, impossibly young. His eyelashes are frozen in tiny white fans against his cheeks.
Marcus shakes his head slowly."Why?" he asks. "Why do you care about him this much?"
My throat closes for one long second.I make myself breathe.
"I made a promise," I say quietly.
"To who?"
"To myself."It hurts to admit out loud."And to him. And to someone who didn't get the chance."
Marcus's expression softens, just enough to be dangerous.
"My mother died," I say. "Because no one came. No one helped. No one even tried. And this kid—" My voice cracks before I catch it. "He deserves a chance. A real one."
Silence spreads between us like a held breath.
"That's why," I finish. "Because I care."
He stares at me like he's seeing me clearly for the first time.
"So what," he says quietly. "You go get a miracle while I sit here and play ice-box babysitter?"
"Yes."
"And if you don't come back?"
I don't soften the answer.
"You pull him out and run."
He steps forward suddenly—too close. "Lily—"
"I'm not negotiating," I say. "We have three hours. We don't get more."
He scrubs a hand over his face. "Okay. Fine. Then you need supplies."
We search the unit. It's not an armory—but it has enough to matter. A wall-mounted emergency case cracked open under my elbow:
A long hunting knife
A pouch of spare cryo fuses
A compact shotgun with a collapsible stock
Two boxes of ammo
A med kit with half its contents intact
A flare baton
A sidearm in a leather holster, dusty but functional
I take what I need and hand Marcus what he might. He catches the pistol too smoothly.
I clock it. I say nothing.
He lifts an eyebrow. "You good with that?"
"I'm good with anything that keeps me breathing."
I strap the shotgun across my back. The knife slides into a sheath over my chest. I load the sidearm and secure it at my hip.
Marcus watches like he's not sure whether to admire me or drag me back by the collar.
"You sure about this?" he asks.
"No."
"Doing it anyway?"
"Yes."
"Of course you are."
We stand there for a moment, the weak emergency lights pulsing like a heartbeat over Eli's pod.The panel ticks down:
3:11 → 3:10
Marcus looks at me with something that might be belief—or fear—or both.
"Stay alive," I tell him.
"You too."
"No promises," I say, but I try to smile.
He doesn't let me go right away. He grips my arm—not possessively, not desperately. Just… firmly. Steadying.
"Three hours," he says. "Get back before that."
"I will."
"And Lily?"
I stop at the doorway.
"What?"
"If this really isn't the apocalypse and it's just 'dystopian,'" he says dryly, "then please, for the love of all genres, don't make it worse."
I huff out something like a laugh.
"Stay with him," I say. "And if anything comes down this hallway—shoot first."
"Yes, ma'am."
I look at Eli one last time.
"Hold on," I whisper.
The panel clicks down again.
3:10 → 3:09
And then I run—back into the dark halls,toward LAB WING A,toward whatever Lantern left behind,toward the cure.
The clock starts now.