“He will move them,” she said. “The children.”

“I know,” I said. “But we can’t fight him from a hole in the ground.”

A sudden, low vibration rumbled through the walls.

It wasn’t a train.

The transit line had been dead for thirty years.

It was the sound of heavy diesel engines idling directly above us.

“Luca,” I hissed.

“I hear them,” Luca said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tactical transmitter.

He checked the frequency, his face tight.

“They are jamming the local bands,” Luca said. “My radio is dead.”

“They are hunting,” I said.

“They are,” Luca agreed.

Eli whimpered, pressing his face into Luca’s coat.

“Hey,” Luca said softly to the boy. “Keep quiet, little soldier. We are going to get you to your mom.”

I looked at the darkness of the tunnel ahead of us.

The air was growing colder, carrying the sharp scent of ozone.

“Which way to the coal chute, Bella?” I asked.

She pointed toward a narrow archway blocked by a rusted iron gate.

“Through there,” she said. “The lock is broken, but the gate is heavy.”