The research station reeked of rust and blood.
Finn crouched by the window, gripping a roll of wide tape as he patched a hole with a piece of cardboard he had found. His movements were swift and practiced, completely unlike the lazy, useless upperclassman he usually was.
Chen Motong stood by the door, righting an overturned metal table and bracing it against the door. Then she stacked two chairs on top of it to hold it firmly in place.
The quietest person in the room was Caesar.
He lay on a cot in the middle of the room—though calling it a bed was generous. It was really just a frame made of several wooden planks, covered with an old blanket from God knew what year. He was drenched in blood. A huge tear had been ripped into his clothes, running from his left shoulder to his chest. The edges of the fabric were soaked in dark red fluid, glistening wetly in the dim yellow beam of a flashlight.
His face was white as paper, his lips purple. His golden hair lay in a messy tangle across the pillow, but his ice-blue eyes remained open, quietly staring at the ceiling as though he were counting its cracks.
"Finn, is that window sealed yet?" Chen Motong asked without looking back.
"Almost, almost." Finn wrapped another two layers of tape around it with all his strength. "The window frame in this dump is rotten. I'm afraid one gust of wind will send both the frame and the board flying."
"Then wrap it a few more times."
"I've already used half a roll," Finn muttered.
Chen Motong did not respond. She merely carried over another stool and wedged it behind the door.
She glanced at Caesar. Her lips moved, but in the end, she