L.A.B.

It was late, the fire was low, and the embers faintly glowed.

Zach sat at my side, all too relaxed. He was leaning back against the log, propped up against his elbows. His easy grin was, as usual, in place, and his emerald eyes sparkled. They always did; he loved a good adventure.

“Relax,” he prompted.

I shook him off and stood, the fire going blank. There was no ash left, no burnt logs, no sign that we’d set up here at all. I hid my dark backpack in a bush and prayed animals didn’t find it.

They never did.

“It’s time.”

He sighed, stood, and rolled his shoulders. He worked out the crick in his neck, popping something, and then stretched out his quads. More out of habit than anything, I was sure. This was never a problem for him.

“Hurry,” I said, already ducking through the trees, flinging back sticks of green that dared to get in my way. The wet dirt gave under my foot, and I sank up to my ankles with every step. I was grateful I remembered my work boots.

“You’re going to work me into the ground,” Zachary said, coming up on my right.

I thought the most menacing thing I could. He winced.

Three minutes and a quarter of a mile later, the fence broke above us. It stretched to an endless height, and when I craned my neck, I couldn’t see the top. I knew it coiled into electrical wire, and I knew that this chain-link fence was impossible to rip through. But it wasn’t heat-resistant.

They never were. They never learned.

I tugged off my glove and pressed my thin fingers to the diamond shaped gaps. It warmed instantly under my touch. Merely a second of concentration later, the gaps widened into a hole that stretched from my knees to my neck. That wasn’t saying much-I was a short person-but it would work.

Zach ducked in after me.

More trees stood guard, spaced closer together this time. I was grateful my bright hair was tucked up, under my hat, and that I was wearing neutral colors. If luck was on our side, we wouldn’t be spotted.

Once through the underbrush, there was a small clearing between one and five yards in length, patrolled at regular intervals. I watched a beam of light dance away from us, sliding over tree after tree in an almost robotic fashion, as if the person had made one too many laps.

I motioned Zach ahead of me, then followed on much shorter legs. As soon as he reached the greenery on the other side, he disappeared into the shadows. I slid into the shadows.

“Another section of grass,” he whispered, bending down close to my ear. I heard his back pop and caught the flash of his white teeth in the dark. “The guard is on the other side, listening to Selene Dion.”

I snorted, pushed past him, and looked for myself. Of course, he was almost never wrong. I just liked to remind him that I was in charge, not him.

After another short sprint, there was a thin layer of trees that quickly gave way to the wall of the very building we were infiltrating. It was made of dark brick, cracking in some parts, and the environment had taken its toll: ivy ran up the sides and splintered the bricks. It was stained with dirt, and it was cold.

I would know, because I ran into it. I swore under my breath and snapped at Zach for laughing. I may’ve been in charge, but he was more coordinated.

A radio buzzed from somewhere behind us, and I froze, eyes wide. Zachary waved it off and shrugged. It was no threat to us.

We slid along the wall until we heard the radio crackle again. This time, his shoulders stiffened and I fell into step behind him. He closed his eyes and his eyebrows pinched down over them, a frown marring his face for only a second. Then it cleared.

“He’s guarding the door. Not moving. Facing away from us.”

I snorted again, cracked my knuckles, and rounded the corner. Piece of cake. Even as a girl, I could take down any guard, any size.

And this man hardly qualified as a guard. He was middle aged and balding, arms crossed in front of him in a lazy fashion. A set of keys jingled in his back pocket. He was talking loudly in the radio, complaining about getting the night shift again.

“Samantha,” Zach hissed behind me, worry spiking his voice, but I ignored him, as usual.

I slid my fingers to his shoulder, much higher than my head, and clamped them down. He dropped the radio with a clatter as his body slumped against mine. I grunted under the weight and lowered him slowly against a tree, out of slight. But not before taking the keys.

I shoved the radio into my back pocket as Zachary came around, shaking his head. “One of these days,” he said, “that’s not going to work.”

I dusted my hands on my jeans. “But today’s not that day.”

The biggest key unlocked the double doors. They were a good two inches thick, and I was sure that these were fire proof. I had to shove them open with my shoulder, as Zach refused to help. His excuse was, simply, that I was in charge.

The halls reminded me of a hospital. They were plain white tile, and plain white walls stood on both sides. Halfway down a hallway intersected this one; it led to one room on the left and a curving hallway on the right.

I took the right.

The hall curved into another straight one, lined with doors. The doors on the left were classic, with that creamy glass and a name listed below, along with some science degree. I shook my head and turned to the other side.

These doors were metal with a bared window. There were simple numbers under them, marking each prisoner without a name. These were the important ones. There were no keys for these rooms, so I burned the locks off into pools of iron on the floor. Then I had Zach kick the first one open, glad that no fire alarm had gone off.

The door hit the wall and bounced, and there was a muffled gasp in the corner. A girl was huddled on the ground, not more than seven I’d guess, her brown hair a bird’s nest on her head. Her chocolate eyes were wide, and she clutched a rough-looking blanket to her body.

There was a toilet in the corner and a sink next to it, but neither seemed to be in the best working condition. The floor was the same cold tile, and it hadn’t been washed in a long time. There was no mat or cot, only the blanket the girl was clutching.

Alcatraz looked better.

Zach reached for the girl, but she recoiled away from him, terror masking her features. I sighed and bent in front of her.

“My name’s Sam,” I said, spreading my arms out but making no move to touch her. “What’s yours?”

“Abbi,” she whispered, and her voice cracked. Her eyes watered, and a bruise along her cheekbone broke my heart.

“Abbi, sweetie, Zach and I are here to help. Do you want to come with me?”

Her head bobbed up and down once, but she still didn’t move towards me.

“Is it okay if I pick you up?” Zach asked.

Her head shook violently. She pointed to me. I tucked one arm under her knees and another under her shoulders, and I lifted slowly. She was light as a feather, and I felt her hip bone and ribs biting into my skin. She hadn’t been feed near enough.

I carried her like that, out of the room, and Zach kicked the next door open.

Another girl was in here, hiding behind the door. She jumped out of the way as it swung open, sending her short blonde hair bobbing. It was cut at a weird angle, as if she’d done it herself. Her shirt hung from her shoulders, too long and too wide. Her pants fell off on hip, and she had to reach to pull them back up.

This room was ten degrees colder, and her shoulders shook with shivers as a wind whipped only around her. Her blue eyes were dangerous.

“Follow us,” Zachary ordered, not bothering with formalities. She looked older than us, old enough to understand we were the good guys. (Guy being a relative term.)

She stood on thin legs and reached for Abbi. I shook my head and she frowned, but said nothing. She needed her strength.

“That’s Elizabeth,” Zach whispered in my ear, tickling a few strands of red hair.

“Next,” I insisted.

The next door took two kicks before the lock broke. A man-guy? boy?-stood just inside, arms crossed over a broad chest. He, too, was wearing nothing more than scraps. He didn’t even have a long sleeved shirt on. He, at least, had tall boots.

His blank hair fell into even blacker eyes, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. Even the look he gave us was dark, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold slid down my spine. His hands tightened to fists.

“Andrew,” Zachary said from over my shoulder. “There’s no time.”

Andrew didn’t move from his spot in the middle of the room, just watched us leave. Elizabeth stood out in the hall, as far from the rooms as she could get. I would drag Andrew out later. Right now, there was still one more door.

It broke off its hinges when Zach kicked it, and I stepped over the cool metal, into the room.

This one was different. The floor was granite, not tile and rough to touch. There was no place to relieve yourself, no sink, and no blanket of any sort. There were chains.

And another man was in them.

I passed Abbi off to Zach, who was able to hold her in one hand. I swear, he hadn't always been able to lift weight that easily. I used to be able to kick his butt.

His lank blonde hair fell into his face. His nose was bent in the middle, as if it'd been broken before, and his eyes were shut. Light eyelashes graced his cheaks, and I had to kick myself for thinking something as stupid like that in this particular moment. His shirt was ripped from one sholder down to his flat stomach, and his jeans were dirty, ripped, bloodied, and all-together worn.

He was on his knees with his hands shackled behind him, above his head, in what could only be described as the most uncomfortable position I'd ever seen. His head lolled to the side, and I dropped down in front of him.

I couldn't find a pulse in his neck, and his wrists were blocked with the cuffs. I swore and leaned in, turning my head and pressing my ear into his chest. There was a weak thump, hidden under the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing, so he was alive. For now. In this life, it was hard to say how long that's last.

The chest shook under me, and I jerked back. Was he...? No. That was impossible...or was it. Sure enough, his body moved up and down with nearly silent laughter. It was hoarse, as if his throat was raw. From screaming? He opened his eyes slowly, both hazel with more yellow than I thought possible, and his mouth tilted up at one side. His lips were cracked, broken, and bloody.

"What a way to wake up," he whispered.

"Sam!"

Zach stood in the doorway, Elizabeth and Andrew flanking him. Andrew looked, for the most part, unharmed. When Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, I noticed a thick scar, stretching down from the right side of her jaw and disappearing along her collar bone, under her shirt. It was still scabed over in some parts.

"They're coming," Zach hissed.

"Sh-"

"Language," the blonde chastised. His head bobbed the other way, brought down by gravity, and he laughed quietly again. Was he...sane? Or was it the beatings? I could see numerous bruised, just on his neck and shoulders. Hardly one inch of the tan skin was left visable under a sea of black and blue

"Burn them," Zachary advised, nodding at the chains. He shifted Abbi in his arms, and she whimpered. His face softened, and he leaned down to whisper to her. She sealed her lips and looked up at him with big eyes.

"This will hurt," I cautioned, overlapping my fingers with the circles of metal. I flexed my fingers, and the metal melted easily, allowing me to pull the half-liquid-half-solid away from his skin. Angry red welts started up at me, blisters already forming, but the man did not cry out. That lazy grin was still spread across his face.

Andrew squatted on his other side, wrinkled his nose, and reached around the blonde. He heaved, and I wedged myself under the blonde's other arm, supporting them both.

"Let's go."