shook him. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
“No, man! I’m a kid. I didn’t do anything. I just wanna leave!”
“Fine,” Brett spat. “But if you see Owen, you tell him I’m not going to get fired over this. I swear, if his dad finds out that I—”
The ground shook beneath their feet. Brett’s grip on Nick fell away as he stumbled back. “What the hell was that?”
Nick didn’t know, but he didn’t think it was a good idea to stay and find out. “I’m gonna go, if that’s all right with you.”
But Brett had already turned away from him.
Nick ran again.
He heard Brett shout something after him, but it was lost to the pounding in his head.
* * *
He jumped over the turnstile, almost tripping and falling flat on his face. He managed to stay upright, and hit the door they’d come in, praying it wasn’t locked.
It wasn’t.
Cold air washed over him as he took in a gasping breath.
The sounds of sirens filled the air.
He could see the swirl of red and blue reflecting off the buildings around him.
He hid behind a bus stop near Burke Tower.
The cop cars flew by, lights flashing, sirens wailing.
“They after you?” a voice asked, making Nick jump and scream.
He turned around to see a man sitting in a doorway, his shopping cart next to him filled with cans and socks. He’d never been more relieved to see something so normal after what had just happened.
“No,” Nick said, voice shaky. “Not me.”
“It’s okay if they are; I won’t tell. Unless there’s a reward. Then I’d tell. There a reward?”
“It’s not about—”
“Would you look at that?” the man whispered, eyes wide.
Nick looked back at Burke Tower.
The windows were reflecting orange and red.
But it wasn’t coming from outside.
It was coming from within.
Fire.
It rose higher and higher, like it was hurtling through each floor of Burke Tower.
Nick tilted his head back as it reached the top, and there was an explosion as it burst through the roof, a trail of flames rocketing into the air. It shot across the night sky and disappeared into the sky.
“Probably aliens,” the homeless man said. “Took me in ’78, but I cut out the implant so they can’t find me! And now I have all the socks I could ever want!”
“Have a nice night,” Nick muttered, pulling the hood over his head.
He hurried away, leaving the man cackling in the doorway behind him.
17
He went to the only place he felt safe.
He kept out of sight, taking the stairs rather than the elevator. He wasn’t supposed to be at the hospital, and if he got caught, he’d probably be in more trouble than he already was. He was still wearing all black (except, of course, for his purple Chucks—Gibby was useless), but that wouldn’t help him. Not here. It’d probably bring more attention to him than anything else.
He’d made it up three floors when he heard a door open somewhere above him. He panicked, looking for somewhere to hide in the stairwell. There was nowhere for him to go. He held his breath, the footsteps echoing on the stairs as whoever it was came down.
Another door opened, and the footsteps disappeared.
He sighed in relief.
The fifth floor was mostly silent. There was a man sitting at the nurse’s station, but he had his back to Nick. A woman moved down the hall, staring at a clipboard, but she turned and went in the opposite direction.
Nick crouched as low as he could as he passed by the nurse’s station. If someone saw him now, they’d probably call the police before anything else. He looked absurd, back pressed against the desk, inching forward as quietly as he could, hood pulled up over his head.
Somehow, by the grace of a god that smiled down at the idiocy of teenage boys, he made it past the nurse’s station undetected. He hurried down the hall toward—
“Nick?”
Crap. He’d been so close.
He turned around.
Becky stood behind him, head tilted to the side.
He waved. “Hey. How are you? You look … nice.”
The man from the nurse’s station stuck his head over the desk and looked at them. “Everything all right?”
Becky waved him away. “Yeah, this is Mr. Bell’s son, Nick. Apparently, he doesn’t understand the concept of visiting hours. It’s okay.”
“I understand visiting hours,” Nick said, scowling. “I chose to ignore them. And what’re you doing here so late? I thought you worked during the day.”
“Working a double to cover for someone else. Nice shoes.”
“Oh. Thanks. The color’s called eggplant.