Dinah hurled herself down the dark hallway toward the B stairwell. She didn't slow down - not even when she heard voices in the distance behind her. And she didn't look back - not even when she passed the grisly remains of the rioters that Smith had killed. Her feet slapped against the frigid floor, echoing loudly in the still, cold corridor. When Dinah finally reached the doorway to the B stairwell, she leapt down the stairs, using the handrail to pull herself around corners. There was almost no light at all: only a few scarce places where green safety lighting illuminated the landings between floors.

When she reached the bottom, she stopped short. Ahead of her, the letters "B-3" - painted in white, three feet high - seemed almost to glow. The door to the bunker was open - wide open. Just in front of the door, there was a discarded baseball bat, a discarded crow-bar, and the glittering remains of a whiskey bottle, strewn in a thousand tiny shards. Just beyond all that, she could just make out a huddled, dark mass on the floor - about the size of a man - obscured by shadow. And just past the door itself, Dinah could see a long, slender hand with blue-painted, chipped nails, curled like a claw in a shallow pool of sticky, dark blood.

No sound.

No movement.

Dinah's heart hammered in her chest as she approached the door, but even at a distance it was already clear what had happened. When she had restored power, this door - like all the others - had unlocked and opened. But James and Ione hadn't been able to get inside before the rioters reached them. As best Dinah could tell, James had stayed outside, trying to buy Ione time.

And as best she could tell, he had failed.

She was close enough now to see James' face - or what was left of it. He was curled in on himself, in a fetal position, hands clutched over an abdomen that was dark with clotted blood. Dinah stifled a low, desperate sob by burying her face in her sleeve. She staggered backward until her body thudded against the wall with the "B-3" - then, helpless, she let gravity drag her down to the ground. Then she clung to her knees, and wept.

It may have been ten seconds or ten minutes later when her intercom chirped.

"Dinah?" It was Isaac.

She dragged one sleeve across her face, wiping away her tears in a wet smear. Her voice was incredulous: "Isaac? Where the hell are you?"

"I'm outside, on the roof. While they were going downstairs, I went up." He was whispering, but he sounded energetic. "Where are you?"

"I'm down in B-3," Dinah answered. Then, she choked on her words: "Isaac, they killed Ione and James."

"I- oh Di." There was a long silence. "God. I-" Another pause. "I'm coming back in for y-"

A third voice cut in - even, but urgent. "Dinah, it's Smith."

She blinked rapidly, and sat bolt upright. "Smith! How'd- wha-"

Smith went on: "There are two teams of six security units each, currently entering the building at the primary west entrance, Orange Corridor. I assess that these units are controlled by a hostile program. Dinah, it's vitally important that you hide. Do not make contact with them. I'm going to confront the pr-"

"What the fuck?", Isaac cut in. "Hostile? They're Novatech, right?"

Dinah stumbled to her feet, still addressing her own intercom. "Smith, are you sure?"

Just then, she could hear the grinding sound of the entrance to the stairwell opening, three floors above her; then, the quiet electric hum of motorized rubber sliding slowly forward in darkness. But there were no safety announcements, no civilian readiness alarms, no wide-sweeping searchlights of the type used to find survivors. Instead, Dinah saw six tiny, bright red dots appear on the wall three floors up - and begin tracking down in the darkness.

"Fuck," Dinah whispered. "Fuck fuck fuck." She looped two arms under James' arms, and heaved his prone body into the bunker behind her. The sounds were closer now - very close - and she could hear the tell-tale snick of the security' units' treads sliding downward, from one stair to the next. She didn't look back - she tugged the bunker door shut behind her, and it slammed with a resonant bang.

Dinah could hear the sound of the units moving outside the door - then nothing. She backed silently away from the door, and came to a crouch on the floor.

"Dinah?" Isaac again. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah," she whispered hoarsely. "Listen, can you get to a car?"

"Y-yeah, I think so."

Dinah nodded in the darkness. "Get in it and go. I'll be fine. But you go. If you can, meet me at the Drifter in twelve hours. And if -"

Isaac cut in: "Din, I won'-"

She shot back: "You will, damnit. I will meet you in twelve hours. And -" Her voice hitched here, and she started again. "And if for any reason I don't make it, you just keep driving west. Ditch anything with a Novatech logo. Just get out of Chicago as fast as you can. Got it?"

There was a long silence, and the faint hiss of static.

"Yeah, I got it. You'd better be there, Di. Twelve hours."

"Twelve hours," she repeated.

Click. Isaac was gone.

Dinah sucked in a long, shuddering breath. She was alone.