Chapter 4 · Breach on the Perimeter

The gate alarm went off while Leo was still screaming.

Not the soft chime. The ugly one. The klaxon Theron bolted over the door after the silver-plague winter—the one that rattled dust off the rafters and made my molars ache.

"Mom!" Maya had both hands flat on her brother’s sternum, elbows locked, trying to pin him down with pure eight-year-old stubbornness. "Mom, he’s burning! He’s really burning!"

I knew he was.

My palm hit the back of his neck. It felt like an iron skillet left on high heat. His eyes snapped wide again. Solid gold. No white left around the edges. Just slit pupils and an animal fever tearing through a six-year-old body.

I glanced at the scrubber wall.

Three green lights out of eight. The rest blinked dead red.

"Leo. Talk to me, baby." I slid two fingers hard under his jawline. Pulse like a bird trapped in a tin can. "Leo, eyes on me. Right here."

"Too loud," he rasped out. The sound tore raw out of his little throat. "In my head, Mama. Make them stop screaming."

The radio on the counter popped, staticky and deafening.

"North fence." Theron didn't waste breath on a hello.