Variant

“I know,” Curtis said. He motioned for me to take his place holding the toolbox. As I did, he cautiously moved over so he could see out the door. “I want to keep the truce, and I want to keep the order. Let’s talk about this and see what we can do.”

The shouting didn’t stop on the other side, but Isaiah, Oakland, and Mouse didn’t answer for a minute. I watched the door. I didn’t want to look at anyone; I didn’t want anyone looking at me. I hadn’t expected this to be so bad.

“You come out,” Oakland finally said.

Curtis looked back at the V’s. “Okay. But here’s the deal. You guys back away from the door. The V’s are safe until we’re done talking. Got it?”

The noise died down as the other gangs talked. “Fine, but here’s our deal. Carrie comes, too.”

“No.” Curtis was staring at her now, horrified. Tears spilled down her face.

“Yes,” Oakland said. “I don’t know what crap you’re trying to pull, but I don’t want you playing the martyr while everyone tries to run. Carrie comes with us, too, and if your gang tries anything stupid…” He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. Curtis was glaring at me now, and I wondered whether he was just going to throw me out into the hall. Finally, Carrie stepped forward.

“I’ll go.”

Curtis grabbed the front of my shirt. His voice was a low, animal-like growl. “I am not going to let anything happen to her, got that?”

I nodded.

He stared at me, his eyes boring down into mine, and his teeth clenched. Carrie reached over and took his hand.

“Okay,” Curtis called over his shoulder, his gaze still on me. “We’re coming.” Finally, he turned toward the V’s, his eyes going from face to face. “Hector, you’re in charge. Keep ’em safe.”

Hector nodded solemnly. His fingers were tight around the claw hammer in his hands. He looked just as ready to attack me with it as defend me.

Curtis stepped to the door. “We’re all coming out. All the V’s. Gangs’ll stay away from each other, and we meet in the foyer. That work?”

There was a pause. “That works.”

“Okay. Everybody back away.”

All of us were tense, watching Curtis and Carrie as they waited at the door. This could all be a trick-they could attack as soon as we came out-and all of us knew it. Curtis’s and Carrie’s hands were tight together, their knuckles white.

Curtis motioned to us, and we pushed the toolbox away from the door. Hector moved up right behind our unarmed leaders, and the rest of us followed as they slowly opened the door. The hall in front was clear. They stepped out.

I glanced down the back hall. I could see the outside doors. No one was blocking them.

“We’re coming,” Curtis said. “You have Carrie and me as collateral. The V’s are going to wait outside.” He motioned to Hector, who immediately began hurrying us down the hall toward the doors.

Shouting swelled behind us, and I heard Curtis yell over the noise. “They’re not escaping. They’re just going where you can’t get them while we talk.”

We ran to the doors. I checked my watch. 5:51 a.m.

Mason was the first to reach them, a pipe wrench hanging in his hand. There was a buzz and click, and he pushed the door open.

Chapter Twenty-three

Hector waited as the rest of the V’s ran outside. I was at the back of the group, and when I reached him I paused.

“Well?” he said, scowling. “Whatever you’re doing, you’d better hurry.”

“Yeah.” I hefted the crowbar in my hand and then sprinted for the incinerator and the door. I hadn’t been back to it since everything had happened-I hadn’t wanted to touch it, or relive it. I’d been replaying the whole thing in my mind enough as it was.

I stopped in front of it, the incinerator to my right. The door didn’t look like anything special. It was metal, painted a warm brown to match the building’s brick. The knob was silver, round and smooth, and one of the unlocking sensors was fastened to the brick above the jamb.

Behind it was a scene I didn’t want to revisit, but I knew I had to. It was the only way to persuade them to run-the only way to get anyone to believe. They had to know what was going on. They had to be scared.

“So what do we do?” Hector was standing beside me now, his breath puffing in cold clouds.

“I’m going to break in.”

“What do you need me to do?”

I looked at him, surprised. “Hector-”

He interrupted, gesturing back toward the doors we’d just left. “Just tell me what to do. We only have an hour.”

I nodded. He didn’t want to help me; he wanted to help Curtis and Carrie.

I stepped up to the door, which fit snugly into the jamb; there was hardly any gap between. I tested putting the wedged tip of the crowbar in the crack, but it didn’t go far.

“Here,” he said, holding up his hammer.

I held the crowbar in place and he tapped it with the hammer, trying to push the edge into the gap. But it wasn’t going far. After a dozen taps, he shook his head. “It’s not working.”