Sky has lost all color under his tan complexion. He's walking on his own now, but not in straight lines. Every once in a while he lists heavily off course and one of us has to grab him to keep him on his feet.

Elle hasn't woken up. The only sign that she's alive is the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Every moment that she spends unconscious is more terrifying than the last. A thought keeps niggling in the back of my mind, and I keep trying to smother it. What if she doesn't wake up? What if she never wakes up, what if she's too far gone? All her medicine is back at the Compound, there is nothing I can use to help her.

Among other things, we're also out of water, food, and any medical supplies we had except for the Tylenol in my pocket. We could circle back, if any of us recognized any of the terrain. At the rate we're going, it'll only be a day, maybe two, before we succumb to whatever kills us first, especially if we can't snatch more sleep than the few hours we've had between last night and now.

"Sorry," Sky apologizes after I pull him upright again. "The ground's still moving." His words are slurred, but less than they were at the Compound.

"I think you have a concussion," I say. He wobbles, missteps, regains his balance.

"Really? What was your first clue?" Ability to walk? Gone. Sarcasm? Just fine.

"Focus on walking," I retort.

"Walking where?" Delilah poses the question we're all thinking. We have two options: Wander the Russian tundra until we die, which will probably be soon, or we could locate civilization.

"To find a city." The words tumble out of my mouth even as I decide the chances of that are invalid. We haven't seen so much as a dirt trail this whole time.

"That's our best bet," she muses.

"Minor detail," Sky says, patting the trunk of the tree he almost walked into. "Which direction is the city?"

The corners of Delilah's mouth turn down. We all come to a stop. Sky leans his head against the tree, his eyes closed, grateful for the momentary break.

"Here." I fish the Tylenol out of my pocket and pass it to him. He takes two dry and hands it back.

"Thanks," he murmurs. We wait for a while longer, nobody really has the motivation to move, Sky least of all. When at last he lifts his head from the tree trunk and squints at the surrounding area, a grimace wrinkles his nose. "This tree is the only thing not spinning right now," he says miserably, and presses his forehead to the bark again.

He tries to take a step and trips over his own feet. This time Delilah catches him and loops his arm over her shoulder. He droops over her, boneless.

"We could find your sister."

She hesitates before responding, "... we could."

"Tell us about her. What's her name?" His concussion seems to be affecting his mood, or maybe the swings are a result of sleep deprivation. Delilah considers his question, her lips pursing thoughtfully. I wonder if she remembers, memories from before the Compound are weird. Sometimes I know with absolute certainty that my middle school classroom had one chair, in the left back corner, that didn't squeak. Other times, I can't bring to mind my mamá's face—brown eyes or green? Wavy hair?

"Amiah," Delilah says at last. "Her name is Amiah Tsinknova."

"Ah-my-yer," Sky repeats slowly.

Delilah shakes her head and corrects him. "You're saying it wrong, it's ahm-ya."

"It's the accent." Sky shrugs.

"It is not."

"Hey, so, what's the first thing you guys are doing when we reach civilization?" Sky changes the subject with a hiccup.

"Find a hospital first," I say. I was headed there anyways. If the Compound had worked out, Elle might've gained a little more time, but what she needs are real doctors. Now, between Sky's concussion and the wound that Delilah is hiding under a few strips of ripped fabric, it looks like all of us need an ER visit.

"Right right right, okay, after the hospital?" He waggles his head. One of his pupils is dilated more than the other. The effect might have been slightly less disturbing if his irises weren't so light.

"Finding a real bed and sleeping for a long time," Delilah says.

A real bed. I dare to imagine sleeping on a mattress, not cement, not dirt, not a gurney. An honest to suns mattress. I might do the same as Delilah, minus the 'find my sister' part. It hits me, not for the first time, that I don't know what I'm doing beyond the hospital. Panic starts to swirl around my broken ribs. I breathe and crush it down. I can't afford to deal with that right now.

"I haven't slept in a real bed in seven years," I say to keep my mind in the present. I angle my head to look at the sky, where the sun is well into its arch towards the horizon. It will be dark soon, and we have nothing to light our way or give us any heat. My shoulder aches dully where Elle's chin rests, I shift her to the other side. The grey of my shirt ripples across her skin like monochrome fire, giving way to lighter shades of green and yellow.

"Seven years is a long time to not have a bed," Delilah says with a hint of wistfulness. Beside her, Sky snorts out a short laugh that earns him wary stares from both of us. He hiccups again and rolls his eyes with a shake of his head.

"Sounds like a song title," he chuckles.

"I think you might have more brain damage than a concussion." Delilah's tone is light, but worry lines her dirt-stained forehead. Considering how hard he hit that wall, I'm worried too.

"Hey!" He scowls and ends up tripping over his own two feet. This time, Delilah smirks, which only riles Sky more. I tune their bickering out for the sake of my pounding headache.

We walk and walk and walk. The trees all look the same, blurring together into a mass of green. I should be more vigilant, there's so much to watch out for. But I blink and the world takes several seconds to return and moving one foot in front of the other feels like slogging through cement up to my thighs.

"Trick, we have to run," Delilah whispers, grabbing me. Fire shoots down my shoulder, locking my hand in a spasm. I almost drop Elle. "They're going to see us, we have to run."

My heart drops. It falls out onto the dirt when I see who she's talking about. Dieter's platinum hair bobs between the trees, accompanied by five bright red coats. In that second when my gaze skirts over the group, Dieter turns his head and his cold eyes meet mine. He flashes a mouthful of broken teeth at me, and I bolt.

Sky clings to one of my arms while Delilah holds his other side. We barge through the brush as the forest breaks out in chaos. The first bullet blows a hole in a tree trunk, spraying me with splinters. Another gunshot, and Sky yelps. Blood hits my face but we can't stop. If we stop we're all caught. I choke back panic. We're nowhere near anything, we have nowhere to hide. But I cannot stop, I would rather die than let them take me back to the Compound.

I can't stop. I can't stop. Sky is bleeding, dragging his feet. Delilah is wheezing and coughing. We're slowing, another bullet wings us as we spill through a break in the trees. Out in the open. A black rock splits the forest.

The double lane road winds as far as the eye can see. Narrow ditches on either side bear few trees and thick dead grass half-flattened by the weight of melting snow. Racing down the road towards us is a truck.

"Hey!" I shout, Delilah shouts. We all duck when the Redcoats fire again, and Sky doesn't stand back up. He kneels in the grass, hands pressed to his neck. The truck isn't slowing.

"Delilah, Del, take her." I give Elle to Delilah and limp as fast as I can into the middle of the road. Right in the vehicle's path. The horn blasts and all I brace for the hit.

Damn, I hope this doesn't break any more bones.

Tires screech as they skid on the asphalt, the truck swerves hard into the ditch, screeching to a stop. The drivers' side door bangs open and a woman with a pinched face storms out screaming Russian. Then she pulls a gun.

Howling wind hurls her into the cab of her vehicle. Her head smacks the window. She raises her gun but Delilah flicks her fingers and it's like the words are sucked out of the woman's gaping mouth. Her eyes bug, she drops the gun to claw at her throat. Harsh Russian leave Delilah's mouth. The woman squeaks, her face is turning purple. Again, Delilah snarls something, the look on her face is pure murder. I back away, leaving her to scoop Elle off the ground and haul Sky to his feet.

"Get everyone in the back," Delilah says.

The Redcoats are upon us, their bright red jackets too close. One stops to aim his gun, and I jerk to the side in the nick of time. I drag everyone to the vehicle all but throwing Sky over the side of the truck bed while Delilah shoves the woman into the cab. I climb up with Elle slung over my shoulder. It starts backing up while I'm still climbing, and I fall the rest of the way in, landing on my back. I can't help the cry that punches out of my mouth.

"Trick!" Delilah calls as we bump onto the pavement. She sprints for us, arm outstretched. I lurch over the side, reaching for her. Our hands meet and I haul her into the bed even as the force of the truck jolting forward bashes me into the tailgate. The tires leave black marks on the road and Delilah and I collapse on the bottom of the bed.

"Elle?" I rasp, my vision is static.

"She's fine," Delilah answers.

"Sky?"

"M'okay," he mumbles.

Good, okay. No gunshots chase the truck.

I lay in unspeakable agony while the sky goes from blue to orange. Hurts too much to move. Think. Tylenol couldn't touch this. The driver hits a speed bump and that's finally too much. I claw myself upright to puke over the tailgate.

Sky is curled in a ball on his side, the gunshot wound on his neck is a bad graze but not fatal. Elle is laid out beside him, shivering in her sleep. They're both still breathing. Delilah looks several shades paler and blanches grey when she applies pressure to her re-opened injury, but she looks at me and says:

"She's taking us to a hospital."

I close my eyes and nod. Night has fallen, I shrug against the cool wind while the truck shudders forward. The idea of a hospital brings to mind sharp scalpels and reeking chemicals, it's not a place I'm going to enjoy spending time in. But it is a place that can help Elle, that can help us all.

Sooner rather than later, we reach city limits. Delilah cranes her neck, skimming everything with lettering on it in search of a sign of where we are. On the other side of the bed, Sky groans whenever we hit a bump. Streetlights loft above us, and the buzz of electricity fills the air. I stick my finger in my ear to make sure they aren't ringing. The city. We're here, we made it.

The truck rumbles deeper into the maze of concrete. Buildings made of glass and metal tower above us, the night sky reflected in their shiny exteriors. Some of them have bright lights glittering out from the inside, but most are dark. Every few feet or so, a tree or a signpost with chipped Cyrillic lettering pokes out of the slush-covered sidewalk. After a while of driving under the trees the road meets with more and more roads, and the truck starts taking turns. The motion makes my head spin, and I close my eyes to shut out the rising nausea. Motion sickness. Great. I don't remember having this. The cool breeze from travelling so fast helps ease my stomach.

Thankfully, not long after the twisting and turning starts, the truck slows. There are a couple more turns, and then it slows more, and inches into a well-lit, cramped parking lot. The hospital rises five story's in the air. Light pours from the ground floor and many of the upper-level windows.

The vehicle rumbles to a stop and rocks with the impact of the driver slamming her door. Delilah hops out first, circling around to the cab to meet the woman while the rest of us crawl out. My feet hit the pavement, and I grimace at the creaking of my joints. Sharp tingling races up and down the back of my legs and swells over my hips. It could be worse, but I'd rather it wasn't there at all. Sky slithers off the tailgate onto unsteady feet. He makes a truly valiant effort to stay upright and keep his breakfast, clinging to the truck with eyes screwed shut.

At the front of the cab, the driver shouts at Delilah. Curses, I'm sure. Human-sized shapes form beyond the glass sliding doors of the hospital as the commotion reaches a fever pitch. I wait for Delilah, watching them watch us. The truck door slams again, rattling the truck. The woman caws something from behind the safety of her closed window, flapping her hands, then wrenches the steering wheel about and rumbles the truck out of the parking lot. Robbed of support, Sky sways. I catch him before he collapses and manage to pull him so his head rests on my left shoulder and Elle is draped over the right.

"I've got him," Delilah says.

"I can walk," Sky mumbles, sounding exactly aswobbly as he looks. He picks his head up with determination. Then drops like asack of bricks.