I inspect the plugs, which are all still secured to the outlets and wall. An enormous battery pack connects at the head, but even it is dead. This guy is living on whatever sustenance was last pumped into his body, which was most likely days ago.

I locate a stamp of a cup, plate, and vitamin pill on the side of the LifeSuPod next to an oval button. I press the button and out of the bottom pops a chamber like a long drawer the size of a piano keyboard. I pull on it, and it slides out even farther, revealing bags sucked clean of their contents—about a half dozen of them. Forty or so more remain with unbroken plastic tops. The machine must rotate through these to get the nutrients Galilei’s body needs to survive. I pull out one bag. Ten-day supply.

Wow. He’s been in this thing for sixty days? That’s almost a full year in Tenebra. The remaining food packs will sustain his body for another two hundred days in real life, which is almost three years in the Nightmare.

It’s only then that I notice a secondary tray beneath this first one. I push the top one back in, pull out the other, and see several more lines of sealed food bags. If this LifeSuPod gets plugged back in, Galilei will live in Tenebra for well over a decade.

Will my LifeSuPod be stocked like this? It’s supposedly sitting in the new location, waiting for me. Is it stocked at all? I wonder if I’m supposed to locate food packs for myself. Why didn’t I think to ask more specific details? Like how the thing works. How do I plug myself in? Galilei has tubes all around his head and one snaking down into a vein in his arm. I’ve never put an earring into my skin let alone an IV. And where does all the waste go?

I look under the LifeSuPod to see a solid gray tube curve away into a space in the wall. Does this guy have a catheter? Will I need a catheter? I’m not about to install one on myself, thank you very much. I shudder at the thought.

My candle flickers and burns below the tin rim, dimming the room a bit. The Nightmare is coming. It’s hungry. I’m so close. I can’t fail now. Focus and get going, Cain.

The underside of the LifeSuPod has tracks like an army tank. I double-check to make sure everything is unplugged, then give it a small shove.

It moves surprisingly easily. I slide items out of the way to clear a path toward the door.

A scraping sound from the hallway jolts my nerves. I spin toward it.

A human silhouette crouches in the doorway, hood up and darkened by shadows . . . Before I have any time to react, the crowbar is yanked into the hall.

The door slams closed, snuffing out the candle and trapping me in darkness.

I run to the bulletproof glass and try to peer through but can see nothing without light. I pound the glass.

“Hey!”

Whoever did this is gone.

Who followed me only to trap me in here? It has to be Stranna or one of the Adelphoi. The timing adds up, as well as the motivation.

But to trap me in here? That seems low. Stranna said they don’t kill—they die. And yet they attacked Galilei—set to drain him of life. She lied to me. And now the Adelphoi are willing to kill me. Or, at the very least, doom me to a deteriorating death in Tenebra.

But the form I saw seemed taller and more built—not feminine. Erik? But he’s searching for Heidi. Did Jules and Stranna send him after me?

I fish in my pocket for the lighter and reignite the little bathroom candle.

Then I try the door handle. It rotates easily—too easily. No resistance. It bypasses the latch altogether, and it’s locked. What sort of door is this that doesn’t allow an exit? Didn’t Luc or Galilei think of that detail? Or has the mechanism been broken by the Adelphoi?

Since no one had been able to get into the room prior to my arrival, whoever locked me in here probably doesn’t know how to do the puzzle and isn’t going to let me out. So no one can.

I’m truly trapped.

I try the handle again, though I already know it’s useless. The only other way out of this room is through the bulletproof glass, which already has gunshot cracks in it. Maybe it’s weakened? But even I know—from movies, at least—that it takes a lot to get through bulletproof glass. Usually a dozen or more gunshots in the exact same spot. From a specific type of gun with specific types of bullets.

Which I don’t have.

I don’t even have my crowbar. I have a lighter and just over a half hour until the Nightmare takes me.

I glance at Galilei, who looks more like a corpse with every passing minute.

“Any ideas?” I mutter wryly.

I survey the room for something strong enough to batter the glass with. My eyes spy flimsy, thin metal poles holding empty IV bags or black-screen monitors. Nothing sturdy that would stand up to more than one strike against the many layers of glass.

I look in the bathroom. The support handle for getting up from the toilet might work if there was a way to get it off the wall. Which there isn’t. And none of the pipes from the sink are accessible—they all lead directly into the wall.

In frustration I return to the main room, searching for anything I’ve missed.

Then I spot red.

A fire extinguisher in the corner behind the door. I pull it out of its slot, and the weight of it boosts my hope. This could work. I heave it over my head but stop before swinging it. I don’t want the thing to explode. It’s pressurized, after all.

I pull the pin, slip the nozzle through the cracked door, and release its contents into the bathroom. It takes several minutes to empty. Every tick of passing seconds grates on my impatient nerves. It sputters, and I pull it back into the hospital room.

That should do it.

I return to the pane of bulletproof glass, lift the metal canister, and slam it into the nearest bullet-hole mark.

The extinguisher practically rebounds right out of my hands. My shoulder is pierced with pain, and a stitch tears.

No change in the glass.

I strike again. A minuscule chip. I hit a third time with all my force, growing lightheaded from the agony in my shoulder. Another tiny chip.

This isn’t going to work. My shoulder and the extinguisher will give out before the glass does. I need something heavier. Sharper.

No, wait. I force myself to slow down and think beyond the panic of my dwindling time and precarious situation.

I don’t need a bigger weapon. I need something that will deliver a more direct impact. A nail or something, though that won’t stand up to a strike from a fire extinguisher. What’s stronger than metal? Stronger than bulletproof glass?

My breath catches. I lift the candle over the LifeSuPod, illuminating Galilei’s face. I open the porthole and reach in until I feel the diamond stud in his right ear. Sweet victory.

I remove the backing and slide the earring off. It’s not like he’ll miss it. I can make him a replacement from nightmist in Tenebra. It takes me several minutes to pry the diamond from the prongs. It has a sharp point on the underside. Perfect.

I stick the point up against the cracked portion of glass, but there’s no way to hold it in place and strike it without smashing my finger. Could I dip it in the candle wax? Would that dry firm enough to hold it in place?

An idea strikes me, and I almost laugh. I pull my wad of gum from my mouth and press it over the diamond. It sticks.

Please let this work. I may have only one shot.

With careful aim, I slam the butt of the fire extinguisher into the wad.

Crack.

The first layer breaks into pieces but stays suspended.