Chapter 3

I gasped for air like a drowning man breaking the surface.

My chest heaved as I gulped down breath after breath, but the searing pain I'd been bracing for never came. My hand shot to my stomach on instinct. The skin was smooth and intact. No wound, no blood, nothing but a thin film of sweat.

I froze.

The shelter looked exactly the way I remembered it. Half a shipping container, gear piled in the corners, and the rough sleeping bag bunched beneath me. A campfire crackled nearby, throwing my shadow against the cold metal wall in long, warped shapes.

I was alive?

I stumbled out of the shelter, and the cold air hit my face like a slap, cutting through the fog in my head. The sky overhead was the same polluted gray-brown it always was, with a few dying stars clinging to the horizon.

This was the morning before we moved out.

A familiar voice called from behind me. "You up? You look like hell. Bad dream?"

Every muscle in my body locked. My blood turned to ice in my veins, and I couldn't bring myself to turn around. I was terrified that if I did, he wouldn't really be there, that my dying brain had just served up one last hallucination.

Then a warm hand settled on my shoulder.

I spun around.

Nathan stood right in front of me, whole and unharmed. He wore the same combat gear from before we'd set out, and concern flickered across his face.

He held a hardtack in one hand, and when he caught me staring, he smirked and pressed it to my lips. "Hey, snap out of it. Eat something. We've still got a long way to go."

The dry, grainy texture spread across my tongue, and the familiar taste grounded me in the moment. Everything felt impossibly real. The warmth radiating off his body, the white puffs of breath when he spoke, and the heat of his palm against my skin.

But in my mind, the image of his body, cold and lifeless, eyes frozen open, was just as real and just as terrifying.

A wave of grief and raw terror seized me all at once, and tears spilled down my face before I could stop them.

I threw my arms around him and held on with everything I had, as if he would vanish the second I let go. His body was warm and solid, and his heartbeat pulsed through his chest, steady and strong against my ear.

Nathan stiffened, caught off guard, and then his hand came up to pat my back gently. "Hey, what's going on? You okay?" he murmured. "It's alright. It was just a nightmare. I'm right here."

Was it a nightmare? The searing pain of dying, the despair that had gone all the way down to my bones. Was that really just a dream?

I drifted through the entire morning in a fog. I watched Nathan do exactly what he had done yesterday, or what I thought had been a dream.

He inventoried our supplies, checked his weapons, and mapped out our route. Every small gesture and every offhand remark lined up perfectly with what I remembered, like two identical frames stacked on top of each other.

Then he pulled out the epinephrine pen again and held it out to me, and every hair on my body stood on end.

This wasn't a dream.

I didn't know what was happening, but I was certain of one thing. I was living this goddamn day all over again.

I cut him off, and my voice shook. "Nathan. We can't take The Iron Graveyard."

He looked up at me, surprised. "Why not? It's the shortest route to The Starship."

"I—" I swallowed hard. There was no way to explain the loop, so I grabbed the only excuse I had. "I have a really bad feeling about it. Trust me, it's not safe. The Dust Wolves could have an ambush set up along that stretch."

He studied me for a few long seconds, weighing whether I was serious. Then he nodded. "Alright. We'll find another way."

His trust, given so completely and without a single question, hit me like a punch to the chest, and my eyes burned all over again.

We took the long way around The Iron Graveyard, sticking to a rougher, more distant route.

At noon, we stopped on a ridge, and I raised my binoculars. The Dust Wolves' convoy was rolling up to the entrance of The Iron Graveyard, right where I knew they'd be. A chill shot straight up my spine.

I'd been right.

We reached The Starship without a scratch. No ambush, no gunfire. When my fingers closed around that silver cylinder again, a wave of pure, reckless joy crashed over me.

We'd made it. I'd changed everything.

I burst out of the Starship and threw myself into Nathan's arms. He was waiting right outside, and the words tumbled out before I could stop them. I shouted, "We did it! Nathan, we got it! We're safe!"

I buried my face in the crook of his neck and breathed him in, that familiar scent that always made me feel safe. We were alive. This time, we were both going to make it.