21
I run all out for a short while. Although the passages are deserted, a muffled voice echoes from up ahead.
Could be a guard.
I slow my pace, let Iggy slide down from my hip, and take his little hand in mine. Together, we tiptoe down a round passageway made of smooth black plastic. It’s not so much a hallway, really, as a person-size tube. A shiver rolls across my shoulders. This always happens when I’m walking around one of Ethan’s buildings. I get this creepy feeling like Iggy and I are a pair of blood cells making our way down an empty artery.
Weird.
A fresh scream rips through the air. My back teeth lock. I know that voice, and it’s no guard. That’s definitely Lincoln. Even worse, there’s a hoarse edge to his cries that I’ve never heard before, like he’s been yelling for hours.
