“Slow and steady,” Zach repeated, walking down the fourth flight of stairs. He’d been walking for some time now.

  Noah’s parting words still echoed in his mind. It’s important that you go back to the apartment. Your surname doesn’t give you the anonymity I have. It hasn’t even been two weeks. If someone searches for your body and finds you missing, that could easily become a problem.

  The fourth flight of stairs.

  How long had he been walking in the stairwell? He knew for a fact he’d spent a few hours in the apartment, fighting his way through the taste of cooked rabbit, while Noah had passed his time just staring at the fire in that intense way of his.

  After the time Zach had had, he’d been desperate for a conversation, but Noah hadn’t budged. Whatever he’d seen in the depths of those flames, whatever thoughts haunted him, it had fully seized his attention.

  Even now, in the stairwell, Zach could almost smell that rabbit again, the strong, hearty scent drifting out of the bathroom, into the apartment living area, and out the open window. The enforcers would never know a fire had been lit, but Noah couldn’t risk the smell of their dinner wafting down to the lower floors.

  Annoyingly, Zach came to a stop again. The upper three floors had been empty, but for some reason, he still had the drive to check this floor, too. Well, it wasn’t really for some reason, was it?

  Truth was, he continued to search through the apartments, looking for any alcohol or poppy tea, even though Noah had said he’d already searched through them all, because he didn’t want to go back to that apartment. To that bathroom.

  It scared him. Worse, he couldn’t really say why. But... something had happened when he’d said those two words. Before the pain in his hand had vanished, something had happened. Something his mind now associated with that bathroom. The mind was a powerful thing.

  Looks like I wasn’t really exaggerating about my memories.

  This entire situation was just so wrong. He had to do this ritual, whatever it was, and suddenly, waiting until tomorrow night—well, tonight seeing that it’s already the early hours of the morning—seemed impossible.

  He had to get his hands on alcohol immediately. Something to deaden his senses or relax his mind.

  “Something to kill the ego...” he said into the silence.

  Wait.

  His head started burning and aching. It felt as if he’d run headfirst into a solid wall, harder than brick. That was a memory! My memory! Something to kill the ego. Something to kill the ego… He repeated it, again and again, anchoring himself to the feeling those words evoked within him.

  He leaned against the wall as breathing suddenly became laborious. That mental wall made itself known and showed no mercy. He could sense it challenging him, daring him to try. So, with a good meal in his stomach, he shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and did just that.

  He tried.

  Give me my memories!

  Running headfirst into an actual wall might’ve been less painful than what followed that decision, but he didn’t stop. Not yet. He tried again, mentally screaming out his frustration, his rage, and determination. He went on until he could feel an actual bruise forming on his forehead. But stubbornness could only get you so far.

  He slid down the wall to his knees, panting like he’d just run a race. Then he heard low chanting. His chanting. The slimmest of memories, like a trickle of water leaking through the tinniest crack in the wall.

  Then it shut it off. That wall firmly in place again, any crack that might’ve been there, now sealed.

  His first inclination was to cuss, but he couldn’t really. As small as it had been, it was something. He now knew more than he had a few seconds ago. Progress was progress, no matter how small. How much more with that ritual?

  He looked up, then, staring at the boards over the window at the end of the hall. For some reason, his senses were getting sharper, phasing in and out of focus. When it was in, he saw with a shocking clarity. The dark hall might’ve been standing right under sunlight. Early hints of pale rays slanted through the space between the boards.

  Morning was fast approaching. If Ava was really going to check in on him, on what she no doubt thought was a living corpse, then he supposed it would attract unnecessary attention.

  Maybe he could just stand in the bathroom, not in the tub, but close enough that he could just jump in if he heard her approach?

  He went down the hall, opening the first door. The place was a mess. Shelves lay collapsed on the floor, tables lay broken and splintered, and there was glass under where a window used to be—now covered in thick boards, of course. He walked across the mess, heading for the kitchen.

  “Look at this place, and you think there’s something here?” he chided himself, throwing open cupboard after cupboard.

  The place was empty. No plates, no cups, no bowls, no glasses, not even rats that were usually right at home in such an abandoned building. Who am I kidding? Of course, there’s nothing here. Admitting defeat was a sour business, but this was the eleventh apartment he’d searched through.

  Within this damned building, time wasn’t a concept he had a good grasp of. Ava could come early; he had no choice but to suck it up and get back to that bathroom. Before he ran into her walking down the hall. Wouldn’t that be something?

  “What makes you think she’ll even come today?” he wondered out loud.

  Ava... That woman on the couch! She has to treat that woman on the couch. Not only will she be in the apartment; she’ll be treating her, too.

  Noah had mentioned that he couldn’t take the cup if there was only one Dreamer getting treated. But she’d have the seeds in her bag, wouldn’t she? She’d been crushing and cutting something the last time she’d treated him. He just had to steal them.

  But what about the enforcer? Even locked in his body as he’d been, he’d always sensed someone standing in the corner of the room.

  “Okay, then I just have to distract him.”

  But how?

  The answer came instantly. It was Noah’s idea, really. If Ava entered the bathroom and saw he wasn’t there, that would create some sort of uproar. Hopefully, they’d be distracted long enough that he could steal from her bag. Noah would just have to understand. Besides, it might be a few hours before he learned what had happened.

  Feeling bolstered by the certainty of his decision, he ran down the last few stairs and almost ruined everything when he heard voices trailing up from the floor below him. The voices echoing up the stairwell, he hurried down the hall and turned into his apartment.

  The woman still sat there, locked in her pain. Tears tracked down from the corners of her eyes as she stared sightlessly at the ceiling. The cup of poppy tea still sat there, untouched. A very real worry nagged at him then.

  If they knew the Dreamers rarely touched the tea by themselves, if ever, would she really bring the plant with her?

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “She will,” he muttered to himself.

  From what he knew of her, Ava was nothing but compassionate. The sort to hold out hope until the very end. That was one of the reasons she and his mother were such good friends. A friendship that predated society’s collapse.

  I don’t know anything about her! And Eve Emery is not my mother!

  But scream as he might, that didn’t change the fact that those memories were true. He could rely on her bringing the plant.

  Beyond the door, the voices were getting closer and closer. He looked around the apartment, trying to find a place to hide. His eyes glanced over the bathroom door, making him wince involuntarily.

  Not there.

  The old bedroom. She never went in there when he’d been the patient, and the enforcer had kept to the door, the living room at most. Okay, then go. Giving himself the order reminded him that he could move. He’d been standing there like an idiot, just staring at the door.

  He swallowed, forcing himself to approach it, the voices spurring him on. With hesitant hands, he opened the door slightly, not enough to be noticed immediately, but enough so that it might catch their attention eventually. He hoped.

  The bedroom was on the other side of the apartment. At this point, the voices were just behind the door. He’d never make it. It was over; they’d see him. Unless he went into the bathroom.

  No!

  With a mad sprint, he dashed across the room, faster than he’d ever run before, and turned left, into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. He stumbled a bit at the sudden speed, catching himself on the wall between two bedroom doors.

  Just then, the apartment door opened. Once more, he had to rely on hope, hope that they wouldn’t come down this way. There was no way he could open the door now. They were right there!

  My senses, now my speed. Is this the String Noah spoke about?

  “It’s never been this hot before,” Ava said. “I swear, it’s getting hotter every day.”

  “Oh, so you’re one of those,” the enforcer said wearily.

  The voice was different from the one he’d heard before. This man’s was softer, kinder even.

  “We can feel it,” Ava sighed. “Whatever happened in that war, it’s changing the planet. We’re lucky enough that we’re still being fed by the river. But it’s coming. John’s expedition is really important.”

  “The planet can’t change, Ava, it’s a planet. All John will find are hungry mouths begging for food and water.”

  “Well, I know better than to argue against that.”

  Zach closed his eyes, getting his breathing under control. His heart was racing as though he’d been running for hours. He listened carefully to their conversation. Ava sounded like she was already removing her materials from her case.

  She whispered softly to the woman, saying she was going to check the wound now.

  “So, that’s where he is, huh?” the enforcer asked suddenly.

  Ava was quiet for a time, no doubt working on the woman’s hand. When she finally did speak, her voice was so pained, Zach instinctively cringed away from it. Another thing that leaked in from that looming wall. He wasn’t the biggest fan of demonstrative emotions.

  “Can you imagine what John must be going through?” she said softly.

  The enforcer’s voice was just as soft and just as pained when he responded. “I know. Both his boys lost to the Knocking. And now his wife, in a coma. Probably over the grief of losing her children. That’s enough to make any man go crazy.”

  John was Oliver’s father. They were speaking about Oliver’s family. His mother had slipped into a coma? Zach couldn’t help but feel guilty at that. If he hadn’t stolen her son’s body, perhaps things would’ve been different. Maybe something else would’ve happened on that platform, and Oliver could’ve gone back to his grieving family.

  That’s why I have to get back. That’s why I have to understand what happened here.

  “You say he’s still alive? Oliver, I mean?”

  “I think he might be getting better,” Ava said, purposefully forcing joviality back into her voice. “He’s the first one I’ve seen that’s not getting thinner. At least, not like the others. I think, somehow, he’s starting to bounce back.”

  “Really?” the enforcer asked, his feet echoing across the apartment.

  “What are you doing?” Ava asked hurriedly.

  “Checking on him.”

  This can’t be happening, Zach thought. Could I really be that lucky?

  “Follow him,” he pleaded silently. “Please follow him.”

  “Ava!” the man called from within the bathroom.

  Zach got himself ready. If he was going to go in there and get out without being seen, he had to do it fast.

  “What—” Ava’s voice cut off.

  They were both in the bathroom. Was that it? Should he go now? But they weren’t going to stay there long enough for him to search through the bag. He needed more time. On the heels of that thought, their footsteps came echoing back as they stepped out of the bathroom.

  “I don’t understand,” Ava was saying.

  “If he’s awake, we have to find him. Hearing her son’s alive might bring her out of her coma.”

  “We don’t know what state he’s in,” Ava said. “Still, he has to be in the building. The enforcers wouldn’t have allowed him to leave. Maybe he’s in one of the rooms, desperate for a real bed.”

  Oh, for God’s sake.

  His heart was racing. He’d succeeded in the first part of his plan, but here he stood, poppy-plantless. He thought of a way out, something, anything, but came up empty. She finally turned the corner and laid eyes on him.

  Not knowing what else to do, he shook his head violently, placing a finger over his lips. She hesitated a moment, so he dropped to his knees, shaking his head with even more vigor.

  “What is it?” the enforcer asked, approaching from around the corner.

  “The doors are bolted shut,” Ava said, her eyes studying him intently. “He must’ve left the apartment. Check the next one. Quickly.”

  “Okay. We might have to go floor by floor.” He didn’t sound particularly thrilled about that.

  His footsteps echoed into the hallway beyond, the door of the apartment in front of this one being thrown open.

  “Oliver,” she said softly. “Are you... alright?”

  Zach suddenly worried that if he spoke, would it be with Oliver’s voice? A stupid worry, but one that sank its claws into his mind, rendering him momentarily speechless.

  “Oliver?” she said, taking a tentative step closer.

  “I need medicine,” he said stupidly.

  “Medicine?” she frowned. “You mean the tea?”

  They don’t have medicine anymore. That war blasted their vocabulary back in time.

  He managed a weak nod.

  “He’s not here!” the enforcer called from the other apartment. “I’m checking the other one.”

  Ava ran to the door, her hands fidgeting with her woolen skirts. “I’m just finishing with her, then I’ll help you.”

  The enforcer gave no response, continuing his search.

  She turned back into the apartment, walked back to the hallway, and asked, “Why? Is it your hand?”

  He nodded, glad he hadn’t unwrapped his hand, healed as it now was.

  “A friend of mine also needs it; I found him on the upper floors.”

  “Friend? He’s injured? Maybe I should look at him...”

  “No,” he said quickly, perhaps too quickly. He softened his tone and tried again, “No. He isn’t right. He’ll only allow me to see him. He keeps speaking about-about demons.”

  Her face paled at that, and she seemed to remember where she was, who she was talking to. She nodded softly, looking back into the hallway.

  “Okay.”

  She ran back to the table where there was a small teapot with steam coming out of its spout. That same sweet, earthy scent he’d smelled last night filled the room.

  She took a large cup that stood beside the pot, filled it three-quarters of the way, and handed it to him. “You two can split that. I’m coming back in a few hours to check on her hand. You’ll tell me how he’s doing?”

  Zach took the cup, smiling and nodding gratefully. He looked back at the door, anxiety showing in every line on his face.

  “Don’t worry about him, just go when I tell you to, okay?”

  Again, he nodded, saying, “Thank you.”

  “I have questions for you, but I’ll ask them later. I should be back in about four hours.”

  “I’ll see you then,” he said, knowing full well it was a lie.

  Somehow, lying from someone else’s mouth didn’t make it any easier.

  Ava walked into the hallway, entering the apartment off to the right, where she stood in the doorway, her arm gesturing that he leave. He took the opportunity immediately, running into the hallway and up the stairwell.

  It hit him when he was about halfway up the third flight that he probably should’ve looked back to show his gratitude one last time, that seemed like an Oliver move, but he wasn’t about to go back just to nod his thanks.

  That thought stayed with him all the way until he reached Noah’s door. Without knocking, he grabbed the doorknob, opened the door, and walked in. Noah was sleeping in the middle of the living room, three small notebooks lying beside him.

  Feeling only slightly guilty, Zach approached him and tapped his shoulder repeatedly. Once he got some answers, Noah could sleep to his heart’s content.

  “Hey,” Zach said, shaking him a bit.

  Noah started, crawling away in something that looked like fear. When he came to his senses, he looked at Zach’s face and scowled.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “I got it, I got the poppy tea.” Zach gently shook the cup for good measure. “We can do the ritual.”

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’ve grown lax.”

  “Did you hear me?” Zach asked. “I got the tea. Let’s do the ritual.”

  “Fine,” Noah snapped. “I heard you. Let’s do it.”