Nothing tied to the night of my retrieval can be ignored, especially when that thing is a mark left before my father showed me that he and my mother were more than dissenters.

They were traitors—like me.

TWO

THE SCENTS OF THE METRO MINGLE, PERFUMING it with the aromas of sewage, baking bread, rotting fruit, and the sweat of its bustling inhabitants. It is pleasant one moment and stomach-turning the next. We’ve been here for a week, but it doesn’t feel like home and no one’s come looking for us yet.

But bit by bit I’m growing more accustomed to the strange world I’ve found myself in. We stumbled into the Icebox not knowing what to expect and found people, shops, and solar-powered lights. Erik discovered quickly that the small items we had on us could be pawned for currency, which bought us access to a cheap hotel room. Today Erik and Jost let me come with them to the grey market, the seedy part of the metro, where illicit trade takes place, on the condition that I don’t speak to anyone. I agreed but only to get out of the rat trap masquerading as a hotel I’ve been stuck in during their other trips, trips that produced stale food and little else. But I’m not looking for a meal; I want information. Erik has learned a lot on his trips to the market, and we’re starting to understand how things work here. But we still haven’t found the mysterious girl who sent us to the Icebox.

The Icebox is a conglomeration of buildings from before the war and ones constructed by the syndicate that runs the entire metro—the Sunrunners, the powerful group that controls the Icebox by monopolizing solar trade. Our hotel’s manager patiently explained the lighting systems to us our first night. He does a fair business off new refugees coming into the Icebox, and he assures us the Sunrunners are not friends of the Guild. Apparently, Sunrunners keep control of solar energy because they are the only ones brave enough to venture outside the borders of the Interface, where the Guild mining zones begin. I think I saw a Sunrunner out on patrol one day, but so far we’ve steered clear of them. Even if we share a mutual enemy, it doesn’t mean the Sunrunners are looking for allies.

There are rules here—rules reinforced by large, threatening posters pasted to poles and buildings. As we pass through the streets, moving toward the grey market, the notices warn us:

SOLAR HOURS FROM

8 RESOLVED DAYLIGHT HOURS

TO

7 RESOLVED DAYLIGHT HOURS

* * *

PATROLS CEASE AT

7:15 RESOLVED DAYLIGHT HOURS

* * *

HEAVY CURTAINS, SALLY PORTS, AND REINFORCED FRAMING REQUIRED FOR ALL SHELTERS AND PLACES OF BUSINESS

The posters disappear as the road narrows, the pavement cracks and shatters, and the street-side food stalls are replaced with dimly lit storefronts—the kind that don’t have signs. We’re nearing the grey market. The rules aren’t enforced here, but it’s as strictly controlled by the Sunrunners as the rest of the Icebox.

We pass a man begging on the sidewalk with a sign that reads: REFUGEE. NO FAMILY. PLEASE HELP. Jost navigates me around him before I can react.

There are refugees every few feet in the main blocks of the Icebox. I haven’t gotten used to seeing them yet. Even the poor in Arras had meager rations. I want to stop and ask these people what they were running from that was worse than being cold and hungry on the street.

But I already know the answer.

The thing that bothers me is that I can’t help them—and Jost and Erik won’t even let me try.

Erik is ahead of us, not bothering to slow his pace, but a block later he stops and turns to face us. “Look, I’ve got a good thing going with this guy. But he’s a bit paranoid. He’s already commented on my Guild paraphernalia, so—”

“You want us to stay outside,” I finish for him. Most of our funds thus far have come from pawning the watches, tech, and even some of the clothes we had on us when we escaped from Arras, but I’m still clinging to my digifile, although it’s run out of power. I pull it from my pocket and offer it to him. “Here, take this. It’s probably worth something.”

“No,” Erik says quickly. “We should hold on to it.”

“Why? It doesn’t work down here,” I say as I slide it back into my pocket.

“You never know. Besides, we wouldn’t want to pawn that without wiping its memory,” he explains.

“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want us to tag along?” I ask.

“I don’t want the guy to feel overwhelmed,” he says, sounding apologetic.

I ignore the sorry tone. It’s growing thin: both boys avoiding each other, speaking through me, Jost’s anger, and Erik’s shame. I thought it had come to a head when I ripped us from Arras, choosing to take both of them with me, but the argument that ensued revealed how large a rift exists between the brothers. Erik’s shock at learning Jost has a daughter hasn’t dissipated yet.

But none of this is getting us anywhere, and separating the two of them might be the opportunity I need to finally get a real conversation going with Jost. He clams up in Erik’s presence. We need a plan. We can’t tread water forever, waiting for the girl to find us.

“Maybe Jost and I can duck into the fine-looking establishment back there.” I hitch my thumb toward the bar we’ve passed. I want to keep the mood light so he knows it’s okay to go.

Beside me Jost takes a step back. It’s good to know I still have the ability to surprise him—or maybe horrify is the right word. Erik shakes his head, but for a moment his grim demeanor slips and he nearly smiles. He leans over, grabs my shoulder, and whispers, “Keep your eyes open. This is not a nice place.”