Chapter 12 · Dead Man Walking

The gas hit my lungs before I could get the mask on.

I stumbled back, eyes streaming, and Ava shoved me toward the far wall. The file room was maybe ten by twelve, no windows, one door that just locked behind us. Smart. Real fucking smart.

"Breathe through your nose." Ava's voice came muffled through her own mask—she'd had hers ready, because of course she did. "It's non-lethal. Probably."

"Probably?"

"You wanted the file. It's right there."

She pointed at the metal cabinet against the back wall. Through the haze I could see it: one drawer half-open, a single manila folder inside. The label was too blurred to read but I knew what it said. Subject Eight. My file. The one Sokolov's people had been sitting on since the first loop.

My wrist throbbed. The 02 was still there, faint and red like a fresh brand. Two lives left. And one of them was about to get real short if I didn't move.

I lurched forward, one hand over my mouth, the other reaching for the cabinet. The gas was thicker near the floor.