Before the red sun, Alex had lived an hour's drive from Erik's door. It had been a simple fact, the kind of number nobody thinks about. On the water, in the mist, it turned into something else entirely.
The dock was dark when Erik came down the fire escape. Killian was already crouched beside the skiff with one palm flat against the hull, and under his hand the aluminum rippled and thickened like cooling wax.
"Four layers at the waterline," he said. "A sealed chamber under each bench. A round can punch through the outer skin and still not sink us."
Kai came down the stairs two at a time with a pack over one shoulder. "Mom made us eat before we left. Real eggs. If we're not back by dusk, she's coming to find us herself. I believe her."
"So do I," Erik said.
