The orphanage stank of bleach and burned wires. Even in his sleep, Keonei could still smell it—could still feel the cold restraints biting his wrists and hear the electric hum of the machines that prodded his bones and made his teeth ache.
Don't think about it now, he told himself. You're almost out.
The emergency lights strobed crimson in the hall, sirens wailing like starving dogs. Keonei crouched low behind a metal supply cart, gripping his little brother's trembling hand so tight his knuckles cracked.
"Don't let go, Kai," he whispered. His voice was steady, but his chest felt like a drum.
Kai nodded quickly, his too-big jacket sleeves flopping over his hands. At fourteen, he was still small for his age, all wiry limbs and sharp angles. His rat-tail swayed nervously behind him as he whispered, "Keo… they're gonna catch us."
"They're not," Keonei said.
"You're shaking."
"I'm not."
He was.
Down the corridor, boots thudded against the concrete. Flashlights slashed through the shadows. Keonei's ears rang as the faint hum in his bones grew louder—metal was everywhere here. Bars in the doors. Screws in the vents. Plates in the walls. It called to him, begging for release.
Not yet, he thought. Not unless I have to.
"Stay close," he told Kai.
They darted across the corridor, ducking into a side passage as a pair of guards passed. Behind them came the muffled cries of other kids—children strapped to gurneys, waiting for their "treatments." Some screamed. Some whispered. Some didn't make any sound at all.
Keonei's stomach churned. He had to get Kai out. Even if I don't make it… he has to.
At the end of the hallway, an elevator door blinked faintly. It was their only way down five stories to the outer fence. Keonei reached into his pocket, fingers brushing the stolen magnetic rod. He could feel the screws in the control panel, like little iron hearts beating just for him.
"Kai." He crouched to look his brother in the eye. "If anything happens, you don't stop running, okay? Don't look back."
Kai's lip quivered. "You're scaring me."
"Good. That means you'll listen."
The elevator doors hissed open.
But before they could move, a voice boomed over the intercom.
"Subjects 47 and 62. Return to your quarters. Now."
The alarms blared louder. Red lights flared.
"Shit," Keonei hissed. "Plan B."
"What's Plan B?"
"Improvising." He ripped the vent cover off the wall, his powers yanking the screws out in a single metallic shriek.
"Keo—"
"In. Now!"
Kai crawled into the shaft, pulling his legs in as Keonei shoved the grate closed behind them.
"Subjects loose on Floor 5!" a guard's voice barked. "Sweep every room!"
The boys crawled in silence, their breathing loud in the cramped duct. Every scrape of their hands on the metal echoed like a gunshot.
Left. Right. Left again. Keonei guided them through the maze of vents until a faint breeze touched his face.
"Almost there," he whispered.
They reached a grate leading outside. With a silent tug, Keonei pulled it free.
Cool night air hit them like a slap.
"Go," Keonei said.
They dropped down into wet grass and ran. Ran until their lungs burned and their legs threatened to give.
Behind them, the orphanage loomed, its barbed wire fences glinting in the moonlight.
Keonei didn't look back.
He just ran.