“I’ll leave,” I tell the guy as I stand up straight, “and when I do, you’re giving that back to me.”

I can’t be sure, but I think he grins.

“This way,” the lead guy says, taking off without looking back.

As the cannibals fall into formation around us I realize I’ve misjudged their numbers: there are more than I thought. They seem to materialize out of the darkness as we move and I’m glad I stowed the urge to fight. Even if we were twice as many, we’d never have fought our way out.

I keep my eyes on Ryan’s back, his broad shoulders leading me forward and blocking out the world ahead of us. It makes me nervous. I’d rather be the lead, see where I’m going. Know what I’m walking into. I’m going on a lot of faith following blindly behind him like this, especially with Trent and all his height pacing so close behind me. I start to feel caged and crazy. I’m surrounded on every side and I can’t see and I want to run or fight or scream, but I keep it locked inside. I keep my eyes on Ryan and I remember sleeping beside him. I remember him between me and walls, me and doors, me and danger. I remind myself what it feels like to press my back against his and trust that whatever is coming behind me is irrelevant. It’s already dead because he’s there.

I remind myself to trust him the way he trusts me. All the way.

Chapter Two

We walk through the streets silently without any light. I’ve done this before—it’s not that big of a deal in a neighborhood you know, but I don’t know this one. Not at all. Not even a little. I don’t come south of the stadiums. To move through this area is to be close to the Colonies, and while I can see their lights blazing closer than I feel comfortable with, I know the real trouble is what you don’t see. Not until the van rolls up on you silently and people snatch you off the streets. But the way the cannibals walk us brazenly through the dark, I wonder how much of a threat the Colonists are to them. Maybe the Colonists give them as much space as the rest of us. Maybe no one likes the idea of being eaten for dinner, least of all by someone living.

Without a word, Ryan stops. I slam into the back of him, and as his hand reaches back to help stabilize me, I wait for the impact of Trent to sandwich me between them. It never comes. I feel clumsy, blind, and a little helpless. The helpless is what pisses me off the most.

“Why did we stop?” I ask, brushing Ryan’s hand away.

Before he can answer there’s a sharp screech of metal on metal. When I break formation to look around Ryan, my gut clenches.

One of the cannibals is using a horrifying hook weapon as a giant crowbar to pull a manhole cover up out of the street.

Funny thing about manholes—I don’t go down them. It’s dumb. Tight quarters, no idea who or what is in there with you, perpetual darkness. It’s a black hole to nothing. The descent inside could be five feet or five thousand years—there’s no way of knowing. I’m no wimp, I’m not afraid of the dark, but I’m also not a fan of it, either, and this thing is all darkness. All endless depths of black midnight with all manner of nightmare waiting for me at the bottom.

“Are we seriously doing this?” I mumble to Ryan as the first of the cannibals is swallowed up by the Great Nothing.

“Looks like it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Promise not to tell?”

“Course.”

I take a quick breath as the leader watches us, waiting. It’s our turn.

“I’m scared,” I whisper to Ryan.

When he looks down at me I wish I could see his face better, but I’m also glad it’s too dark. This admission is huge for me. I’m not even sure why I told him. Not like he can do anything about it—but it helps somehow, having him know.

“Me too,” he replies.

“Me three,” Trent agrees.

Ryan I believe, but Trent not so much. Still, I appreciate the solidarity.

“I’ll go first,” I say quickly.

I step away from them before Ryan can stop me, because I know he’ll try. I’m not surprised when his hand shoots out to grab hold of me. I saw it coming. I dodge it easily, slipping away toward the cracked can of no-friggin’-thank-you yawning in front of me. I don’t give myself time to think about it. I don’t let myself go full terrified toddler, imagining all of the things that could be in this hole waiting to grab my ankle and yank me down to Hell. I dive right in, swinging my legs inside and slowly climbing down, being careful as I feel the slippery, slimy coating on each step.

I slip down farther and farther until the meager light from above starts to fade away and I have that claustrophobic feeling you get in an unseen, wide open space. The area around me could be boundless or it could be tiny. There could be walls everywhere just waiting for me to walk straight into them and bash my nose on their cold, wet surfaces. All I know for sure is the circle of light above me, the ladder under me, and the endless black around me.

“One more step,” a voice warns softly, scaring the crap out of me.

I pause for a second, letting my nerves calm and my senses take over.

They’re to my left. It’s a woman. Her voice didn’t echo much at all so I’m assuming the space down here can’t be too big. I let go of the ladder and instantly feel dizzy. My eyes are adjusting to the dark, picking up on what small light is coming in from up top, but it’s not going to be enough. I can’t get my bearings on anything. As I slowly take a step toward the voice, I wonder how much she can see. Is her eyesight that good in the dark or does she have all of these caverns and tunnels memorized?

“Stand over here.”

“Where is ‘here’?” I ask irritably.

“To your left three paces.”

I put my hands out and shuffle-step three paces to the left. My fingers brush a rough wall, cold and damp. It feels like algae is growing on every surface down here and the air tastes wet and weird. How do they live like this without getting sick all the time?

The light coming in from above is blocked for a second by another body making its way down. It’s moving too quickly to be one of the guys. They’re staggering us: sending in one of their own, one of us, one of their own. It’s smart. Annoyingly so. It also reminds me of the Colonies and my anxiety/anger ratchets up a notch.

Trent comes down next, another of theirs, then Ryan. No one says a word once we’re all assembled. I can hear breathing and shuffling bouncing off the walls, making it feel like people are everywhere. But how many could there really be? Outside this hole I saw at most ten of them. But inside, trapped in an enclosed space with all of their lips and teeth, it feels like there are a million. And they’re all hungry.

I jump when there’s a loud crack followed by a scraping sound. Someone has sparked flint, lighting a torch off to my right. I watch the firelight play off the sheen on the walls, dancing like diamonds faceted in every surface, when what I’m really looking at is slime. The ground has an obsidian, oily coating on it that glistens with rainbows in the light. I worry that it actually is oil. One dropped spark from that torch could send this entire place up in flames in an instant.

“This way,” the guy with the fire says, his voice surprisingly gentle. Almost welcoming.

There’s an otherworldly feel to this place. As though when I came down that manhole what I really did was slip down the rabbit hole into Wonderland. I’m not so sure I prefer it to Neverland. I knew the rules there. Down here with these people… well, it feels like anything goes.

We walk for half an hour before I see light glowing at the end of the tunnel. It’s yellow and clean. Warm. The temperature has been rising, the moisture disappearing from the air. This is where they live. Where they sleep.