the threat.”
“That could work,” said Haru, “and honestly it might be our only chance against them, but this old building might not take it—it’s mostly unreinforced masonry. Anything big enough to take out a team of Partials could take the whole building with them, or at least a few floors.”
“A hole in the floor is a viable escape route,” said Kira, “if we survive. It’s that or a firefight, and I don’t think the odds are in our favor.”
Jayden nodded. “Let’s do it.”
The Partials were being cautious; by the time Kira heard them, they were already at the front door. A footstep, maybe, or a loud breath—she couldn’t be sure what she’d heard, but she’d heard it. She waited, the silence stretching out to an eternity, then abruptly something clattered across the rubble in the doorway, followed by a loud bang like a gunshot. A flashbang grenade. The four of them stiffened, staying as silent as possible in the back room as heavy, booted feet ran into the kitchen beyond.
Jayden was lying on the floor by the closed doorway, holding one of Kira’s medical tools: a small viewer with a narrow, flexible handle. It was designed for looking at noses and throats, but it worked just as well as a sort of tiny periscope—he’d curled it under the door and around the corner, giving him a perfect view of the rigged living room.
Kira heard a low mutter from the living room, and listened more closely. She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Which group is this? There was no response.
Jayden raised his hand, preparing to give the signal, and Haru hovered his finger over the detonator. Kira stopped him, trying desperately to mime the phrase, There’s one more in the hallway. She could hear its footsteps. Haru seemed to understand and nodded.
Jayden gave the signal and curled up behind the mattresses they’d piled against the wall. When nothing exploded, he turned in alarm; when he saw Haru waiting, he mouthed obscenities and gave the signal again.
Kira pointed at the hallway, miming as best she could, There’s one more. She held up three fingers, stabbing the air emphatically. Jayden slowly, silently moved back to his looking device, then leaped up in surprise the instant he looked through it, lunging for Haru with wide, terrified eyes. The doorknob turned—one of the Partials was coming in—and Kira slammed her hand down on the detonator button.
The world roared.
The explosion shook the building, knocking frames from the walls and plaster from the ceiling. The wall shattered and flew toward them, and even with the mattresses it felt like being hit in the head with a hammer. In the same instant the entire room started sliding downward, the floor giving way with a sickening sense of vertigo. Kira clung to the empty bed frame, though it was sliding along with everything else. She heard another massive roar, saw an avalanche of wood and plaster thundering toward her, and let go of the bed to cover her head with both hands.
She felt herself buffeted from all directions, then enveloped by something rough and massive. The movement slowed, stopped, and as she slowly uncovered her head she saw other parts of the building still shifting—a shower of dirt and rubble, a falling refrigerator, a rug slipping slowly into a hole. The building’s rooms and floors had become meaningless, smashed together in a three-dimensional chaos. Kira tried to move; she was buried to her waist in rubble. Her legs felt pinned by something huge and heavy.
She heard a cry from somewhere in the distance and shouted back, her throat dusty and her voice raw.
“Hello! Jayden!”
A hand rose up from the rubble in front of her, clad in the dark gray uniform and body armor she recognized from countless war-era photographs. It was a Partial.
Kira strained at her legs, unable to move, then looked for her rifle. It was nowhere—even her medkit was gone. The arm in the rubble moved slowly, tenaciously, searching by touch for something to hold. It found a jutting piece of rebar and gripped it tightly, straining at its own weight, and Kira saw the rubble begin to shift. The Partial was rising to the surface—
—and then a rat fell from the sky.
Kira flinched back in shock, her mind taking a second to process the object. The rat hit the ground, twisted to right itself, and hissed. Kira grabbed a piece of plaster from the pile that held her trapped and threw it at the rat, shooing it away. She heard more chittering above her and looked up to see a slanted ledge two feet above her head, the whole surface boiling with rats.
“No.”
A couch behind the rats shifted suddenly, plunging six inches ahead. Two more rats fell toward her, one landing in her hair; she knocked it away and dug furiously at the rubble around her. The Partial arm still strained, the debris slid and shifted, and slowly a helmet came into view. The thing’s face was covered with a black visor, but she could hear it growl, low and guttural. Kira dug wildly, pulling in vain against the weight that pinned her legs. The couch above screeched harshly against the floor, bringing another shower of rats—three, five, she didn’t bother to count them. The Partial lunged upward, and suddenly both arms were free. It shook itself to dislodge more rubble, knocking away broken bricks and shards of plaster.
Kira didn’t have time to think—she reached up, grabbed the ledge, and pulled it down with all her strength. The rats tumbled down in a shower, covering her in fur and claws and writhing, wormlike tails. The Partial lunged forward, its hands like claws, and in that moment the couch gave way, plunging forward like a boulder, catching the Partial in the face and slamming it backward to the floor. Kira screamed as the couch ground the skin from her knuckles, screamed as she batted away the frantic swarm of rats. There were answering shouts in the distance, but she couldn’t make them out. She strained again at her legs and felt them move, ever so slightly; the falling couch must have shifted whatever was pinning her. She pulled as hard as she could, then changed her focus and started pushing, flexing against the weight to push it even farther away. If the couch had dislodged it, she might be able to move it farther.
The couch moved again. The Partial underneath was still alive.
Kira grunted with effort, clenching her teeth and heaving against the rubble with all her strength. It shifted again, gravel running past her legs, and with a loud groan the entire floor beneath her seemed to disappear, sucking her down with a cry of terror. She fell ten or fifteen feet and landed in a coal-black pit, scrambling for footing as more debris rained down from above.
She heard an urgent whisper.
“Hello?”
“Yoon, is that you?”
“Kira! Help me move this dresser.”
Kira’s eyes adjusted slowly, and the pitch-black nothing became a dark gray outline of shapes and angles. The windows must have all been covered by rubble. She followed Yoon’s voice, slipping and sliding across the rubble, and found her pinned beneath a heavy wooden dresser. She had a better angle of leverage than Yoon, and together the two girls shoved it aside. A loud thud sounded behind them, and Kira turned to see that the Partial from above had jumped down the hole after her. It landed easily, like a cat, and immediately stood. Kira ducked back, hoping its eyes would take longer to adjust than hers had, but it lunged forward with perfect accuracy and tackled her to the floor. She kicked and scratched, screaming for help, but the Partial had arms like iron; she felt its weight like a cage, its arms as solid as bars, and then suddenly it stiffened, its back arched. Yoon ripped her knife from the Partial’s back, spun, and slashed again at its upraised throat. It fell to the side with a hissing gurgle and a spray of hot blood.
Yoon panted. “You are damn lucky he didn’t know I was there.”
“There’s at least two more we haven’t accounted for,” said Kira, crawling to her feet. “We’ve got to find Jayden and Haru.”
The building was more solid down here, two