bickering siblings on the best of days. Put a video game between them, and we’ll be lucky if they don’t bring the cops down on us from all the shouting, no matter how tired Remi is. Speaking of which . . .
“Aren’t your parents going to be able to hear us down here?” I ask, finally meeting Ania’s gaze.
“It’s pretty soundproof. We should be okay if we can keep those two under control,” she says with a sharp side-eye at Remi and Jaesin. “This isn’t a long-term solution, though. We need to talk about what we’re going to do. Even if the news cycle dies down and they stop actively looking for us, you won’t be able to get a job or an apartment in this city, and you won’t be able to show your face out on the streets.”
I sit down hard on the couch and put my head between my knees. “Damn, Ania, just lay it all out there, why don’t you?”
She winces. “Sorry, but it’s all true. I know it’s a lot, but the longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be to get out of this mess.”
The noise escalates as Jaesin and Remi get deeper into their game, shoving each other’s avatars off moving platforms and dashing for the same powerups. Ania looks to the ceiling and shakes her head, then stomps over to them.
“You’re going to get us caught the second my parents get home! Should I just call them and tell them you’re here? Do I need to take the video game away from you like a babysitter?”
Jaesin and Remi both duck their heads with sheepish looks. Remi pushes their controller away and hits the power button.
“Yeah, you probably should take it away, actually,” they say, the picture of innocence . . . until they lower their voice and mutter to Jaesin, “This isn’t over.”
How are the two of them so . . . uncaring? Are they just that good at blocking out the awfulness? If so, they should teach me, because I obviously can’t handle it.
Ania sits on the plush couch, her face shadowed with concern. I flop down beside her and throw one of the fancy cushions at Jaesin, way harder than I mean to.
“Okay, can we be serious for a second?” I say. “A bunch of people just died because of us and we should care. The cops are out to get us, the media will be all over us the second they release our info, and the guy we were doing this job for is probably gonna be pissed because, unless one of you thought to grab it, we don’t have his maz.”
I pause for a minute to swallow against the constriction in my throat. “I don’t know what happened. This is such a mess. Nothing like this has ever happened to us, and it’s just . . .”
Somewhere above us, a muffled thump echoes, followed by what are unmistakably footsteps.
Ania glances to the corner of her vision where her lenses show the time. “My parents are home. I’m serious, though, they never come down here. They never even speak to me unless spoken to.”
Her expression grows pinched, and she changes the subject.
“I guess first thing we should do is try to get in contact with the guy who gave us the job. Return his money, tell him the deal’s off. We can’t have him after us, too.”
She’s right. This is the first job we’ve ever failed to come through on, and the funny thing is it’s absolutely the least of our worries. Now that we’re murderers. Now that we’ve let loose a new plague upon the Industrial District. Now that we’ve irrevocably damaged the lives of thousands of people. All the guilt and shame Jaesin and Remi were trying to avoid shows plainly on their faces, in the way they sit slouched over, shoulders pressed together. I’m tempted to hack into the hospital’s records and see if Ginny from the bakery is among the ill or dead, but I don’t.
I can’t.
“I have to figure out why it happened,” I say, trying so hard to keep my voice from shaking. “Yes, I made a mistake. I pushed it too hard, but that shouldn’t have caused such a huge rupture up the pipe unless there was already something else wrong. You felt it, Remi,” I say, pleading for them to back me up.
They only shrug, avoiding my eyes as they wipe a tear away. “I definitely felt something surge or