2026-10-26 13:37:46
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The Car
VANESSA — DAY 7The car is warm.It’s Ashley’s black sedan, idling in the deep shadows of the parking lot behind the science block. The engine hums. The heater is blasting on high, pushing out hot, dry air that smells like expensive leather and mint.I’m sitting in the back seat, my hands folded tightly in my lap. My heart is slamming against my ribs, but my face is completely still. I have practiced this face for years. It’s the face of a girl who is calm, and helpful, and exactly where she is supposed to be.The driver’s door opens. A blast of freezing air hits me. Ashley slides in, bringing the smell of snow and a heavy, frozen bundle of green wool.He drops the coat onto the passenger seat. He doesn't look at me. He just stares at the coat, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face. His golden hair is wet, his blue eyes bright."You got it," I say. My voice sounds perfectly calm."Told you I would." He turns the key, and the engine purrs a little louder."Open it," I say.
The Service Tunnel
TRESTIN — DAY 7I am standing in the pitch black of the east hostel stairwell when the lights die.I cut the power. I found the breaker box in the basement an hour ago. It was a risk—a stupid, desperate risk—but it worked. The guards' heavy flashlights flicker and die. The emergency bulbs shatter. The darkness is absolute.I hear boots scrambling above me. Then a guard yells, "Stop her!"I press my back against the cold concrete wall, my hand wrapped tight around a heavy pipe wrench. My heart is slamming against my ribs.A flashlight clicks on—a backup beam. It slices through the dark, hitting the landing above me.Amelia is running.A guard lunges and grabs a handful of thick green wool. The coat.She doesn't stop. She twists her body, slipping her arms out of the sleeves like a snake shedding its skin. The guard stumbles backward, holding nothing but the empty coat. Amelia dives into the dark hallway above and vanishes.The guard curses. The second guard shines his light down the st
Eight O'Clock
ASHLEY — DAY 7The cold at the founders' wing gate is different. It’s a rich man’s cold. The wind is blocked by the high stone walls, but the air still bites through my wool overcoat.Commander Drake is standing by the gate, staring at his watch.I checked my phone an hour ago. I promised him the notebook by sunrise on Monday. I failed. Vanessa had texted me last night—It's in the coat. Tomorrow.—but the morning came and went with no sign of her. I spent the whole day pacing my suite, sweating, waiting for Drake’s guards to kick down my door.Now, it's eight o'clock at night. The deadline I pretended wasn't coming.Drake looks up. He doesn't look angry. He looks bored. That's worse."You promised me sunrise, Mr. Hayes," Drake says. His voice is quiet, but it carries in the dead air. "I gave her until eight. It's eight.""I know," I say. My hands are in my pockets so he can't see them shaking. "She's coming."As if on cue, I hear the crunch of boots on the icy path.Vanessa walks out o
The Keys
TRESTIN — DAY 7Hollis is waiting for me at six in the morning.He’s standing outside the facilities office with a cardboard box and a clipboard, stamping his feet against the frost. The sky behind him is a solid, suffocating sheet of gray. The sun hasn't even tried to rise."Cole," he says. "You're late.""I'm right on time." I stop in front of him, my breath clouding in the air."Master ring. Now."I reach into my pocket. The heavy iron ring feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. It carries the keys to every lecture hall, the library, the clinic, the dining halls. It carries the keys to the supply closets. The food pantries.If I hand this over, I am blind. I am locked out."I need one more shift," I say. My voice is steady, but my heart is hammering. "The pipes in the west wing are going to freeze. I need to check the valves.""The hell you do." Hollis taps his clipboard. "The order comes from the dean. All non-essential personnel are cut off. Hand them over, or I'm calling campus
The Lining
VANESSA — DAY 6The silence after the guards leave is worse than the noise.Amelia doesn't move. She stands in the middle of the wreckage, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of that ugly green coat, staring at the shattered glass of her father's picture frame on the floor.The cold air from the hallway is rushing through the broken door, turning the room into a freezer.I stay on my bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I make my voice soft. Trembling."Amelia," I whisper. "Are you okay?"She doesn't look at me. "They tore everything apart.""I know. I'm so sorry." I slide off the bed and step carefully over a pile of torn textbooks. I reach out to touch her shoulder. "I was so scared. I thought they were going to hurt you."She flinches away from my hand.I freeze."I heard him," Amelia says. Her voice is hollow. She finally turns to look at me. Her brown eyes are hard. "At the door. Before the guards came. He said they were looking for the notebook.""Who?""The boy with the sc
The Sweep
AMELIA — DAY 5The pounding on the door nearly stops my heart.It’s four in the morning. The room is pitch black and freezing. I’m still wearing the green coat, curled up on my bed, the heavy weight of the sewn-in notebook pressing against my spine.Bang. Bang. Bang."Amelia!"Vanessa stirs in the other bed, groaning. "Who is that? Tell them to go away."I slide out of bed, my bare feet hitting the icy floor. The cold shoots up my legs. I creep to the door and peer through the peephole.It’s the boy from the science block. The facilities guy with the scar on his cheek. The one who held the door for me. His chest is heaving like he just ran a marathon, his breath fogging the glass. His dark hair is wet with snow.I unlock the deadbolt and crack the door open, keeping the chain on. "What?""You need to get up," he pants. "Get your shoes on. Right now.""Who are you?" I whisper, my voice sharp. "How do you know my room number?""There's no time for this." He glances over his shoulder into
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