The bullet chipped the concrete inches from my shoulder, showering us with gray dust.

“Four,” Rowan muttered.

He twisted the tool.

“Five.”

The lock turned with a heavy, metallic thud.

Rowan threw his weight against the door, and it burst open.

The cold, wet wind hit us instantly, taking my breath away.

We scrambled out into the mud behind the medical compound.

The rain was pouring in sheets, turning the ground into a slick, dark swamp.

“This way,” Rowan shouted over the roar of the wind.

He ran toward the dark line of trees bordering the property.

I followed him, my feet slipping in the mud, my hands clawing at the wet grass to keep my balance.

Behind us, the estate’s emergency horns began to wail.

The backup generators had finally bypassed the fried circuits, but the electronic gates remained frozen shut.

We reached the cover of the woods.

The branches tore at my face and wet clothes, but I didn’t feel the pain.

My eyes were locked on Rowan’s back, on the white bundle he held so tightly.