I stop in the shadow of the doorway. Olin hasn’t been alone since the incident. But he isn’t getting better on his own, and he has no one else except me. “Hang in there, Olintl. I know you’re scared. I’m going to figure out how to wake you up.”

The corridor is empty as I scamper through the receiving area and out the front doors. Only after emerging, do I realize it’s night. From the sparse lights of Worker City, I barely perceive the subtle glint reflecting off the metallic mesh of the shield dome fifty meters above me. Beyond the mesh, a thick blanket of clouds erases the night sky. At least it’s not raining.

I breath deeply and realize this is the first time I’ve been outside in two weeks. I’ve missed the feel of dirt beneath my bare feet, even if it’s a dirty, cement walking path.

Slowly, I jog in the direction of home. Or what used to be home. District Four has its own clinic, so I don’t have far to go physically. In every other way, the journey seems infinite. After denying the future for days, I’ve finally made a decision.

A month ago, I made decisions over clothing or what to eat for lunch—the kind I now realize aren’t really decisions at all, but inconsequential choices. Decisions include a right path among a million wrong ones. Decisions come with the potential for failure. As I breathe in rhythm to the slapping of my feet, I’m certain failure scares me more than death.

I pass few others. Citizens of Worker City rarely have the need or luxury to be out at night, and I’m grateful for the solitude. Then it hits me. The fact I’m out after dark reveals my newly acquired chadzitzin status—something less than a full citizen. If Olin and I are to have a long-term future, I’ll have to deal with the matter. First, I have to wake him up.

I rummage through my mind for helpful bits of information from lost botanical lessons. If my parents were alive, they would know what to give Olin. If Olin hadn’t killed—I stop myself. I’ve already made the decision to save my brother, not condemn him.

There has to be something in our house to wake Olin up.

I stop short of the squat, three-story adobe complex I’ve known as home my entire life. Something is wrong. The front door to the building is open. I step closer before realizing the door isn’t open. It’s gone. And normally there would be at least a single lamp flickering in a window, due to someone unable to sleep or a colicky baby.

Tonight all three dozen units are dark and quiet. Through the corner of my eye, I catch a faint blue-green shimmer from a third-floor apartment—the one next door to my own. A lump catches in my throat. The building is unoccupied, not empty.

The shimmer could mean only one thing, the Ometeotl Guard. Or at the very least, some form of immortal security. I swallow with difficulty. Perhaps Huatiani himself. Why would immortals bother emptying a dumpy apartment building on the fringe of the shield dome in Worker City? Unless…

The glimmer in the window thickens. I dart for the shadows at the base of the building. Bracing my back against the warm adobe, I struggle to control my breathing. If immortals have discovered the truth behind my parents death, they’ll come for Olin next. Nothing is less tolerated in Worker City than uncontrolled, raw abilities.

I pound the back of my head against the adobe wall in effort to rattle loose a rational thought. Panic grips me instead. What am I doing here?

I can’t even risk being in the same district as Huatiani. If he catches me here, he’ll know instantly who I am. If he suspects my brother for the deaths, I’ll be guilty of helping him escape. We’ll be executed. Or even worse, excommunicated outside the dome and left helpless against bands of roving twitchers.

The possibilities are too terrible. No medicine is worth excommunication. My parents wouldn’t have expected me to stand up to Huatiani. I could practically hear them telling me to stay out of trouble. Sticking close to the side of the building, I walk slowly away from the opened door.

Suddenly, voices round the corner of the apartment building. I have to escape. If I dash into the open, they’ll see me. Unwillingly, I seize upon my only option. With my heart frozen inside my chest, I plunge through the darkened doorway and into the complex that used to be my home.