I'm falling.

  Then I'm not.

  The ground below me turns to soup, swallowing me like I'm nothing. My stomach lurches as gravity yanks me down, but I'm ready. This isn't my first time falling.

  The liquid stone parts around me as I drop, and for about three seconds, I'm suspended in something that shouldn't exist - rock that moves like water. It's not hot like lava. It's room temperature and weirdly slick, like wet clay but thinner.

  I hit something solid. The impact jars my teeth, but I've had worse. Way worse.

  Darkness wraps around me, but my eyes adjust fast. Tunnel. Old mining level, approximately 30 meters below where I was, if I had to guess. The liquefied rock is settling above me, hardening back into ceiling. I hear distant shouting, muffled by stone.

  The tall one with the rock powers is yelling something, but I can't make it out. Good. Let him yell.

  He touched Mr. Waddles. He was in my room.

  I tighten my grip on my backpack. I've still got it looped around my wrist. Mr. Waddles is inside, along with my books and blanket. My stuff. The only things that are mine.

  I need to move. Standing still equals recapture. I have maybe 12 minutes before the coats figure out where I went. Less if they have motion sensors down here. Do they? I wouldn't be able to tell. There's no light here, just the vague new senses that whoever I'm chasing has given me.

  The tunnel stretches in two directions. Left looks older, support beams sagging. Right has newer metal reinforcements. I go left. Older means forgotten. Forgotten means less monitored.

  I walk quickly, not running. Running wastes energy and makes noise.

  My fingers brush against the rough wall, and I feel something unexpected. The stone ripples under my touch, like pond water. I try again, deliberately this time. I press one finger against the wall and think about it turning soft. The stone liquefies instantly, forming a perfect circle around my fingertip. When I pull away, it stays liquid for a split second, then hardens again.

  I understand immediately. His power, but better. His was limited - needed constant contact, concentration, both hands. Mine isn't. I can liquefy with a thought.

  He touched Mr. Waddles. He was in my room.

  I keep the anger fresh. If I lose it, I might lose the power. I need to stay angry at him specifically.

  Water trickles from somewhere, a steady drip-drip-drip. The storm must be heavy above ground. This place will flood eventually. I need to move upward or find an exit tunnel.

  I reach a junction. Three paths now. Straight continues flat. Right slopes upward. Left goes deeper. I hear voices from the right tunnel—not the kidnapping team, different voices. Multiple people arguing.

  I press myself against the wall, listening. The acoustics down here are weird, bouncing sound around corners. I count at least four distinct voices.

  "--splitting up increases our odds--"

  "--said they're bringing dogs--"

  "--need to get topside before the rain--"

  Other escapees. Other prisoners making a break for it. I weigh the options - going right means dealing with them, but also means heading upward. Going straight or left means avoiding people, but staying underground longer.

  Water's getting deeper. Already soaking into my soles.

  I make my decision. Right tunnel, upward, but careful. I can handle other inmates if I have to. I've handled worse.

  I move silently up the sloping tunnel, the arguing voices getting louder. The tunnel widens into what looks like an old storage area. Mining equipment, rusted and abandoned. Five people are gathered around someone's palms, a small ball of fire dancing from finger to finger.

  I recognize them from Daedalus - not by name, but by type. Isolation wing, general population, minimum security. I categorize threats automatically. One has visible mutations - extra arms, scaled skin. Another one's fingers keep stretching, then retracting. The third one's just big, muscles on muscles. The fourth one has the fire. The fifth looks normal but has scars across his face like a road map.

  The one with the stretchy fingers notices me first. "Holy shit," he says, turning. "It's an actual kid."

  Everyone goes quiet, staring at me. I stand perfectly still, assessing. The big one could rush me. The stretchy one could grab from distance. The firey one is unpredictable. The mutant has numbers advantage with those extra arms. The scarred one is an unknown variable.

  "Where'd you come from, little girl?" the scarred one asks. His voice is soft, but that doesn't mean anything. The worst handlers always had the softest voices.

  I don't answer. Talking wastes time.

  "She's from D-Block," the mutant says. "Isolation wing. I saw her once during transfer."

  That changes the atmosphere. They tense up, recalculating just like I did. Isolation wing means dangerous. Means something to fear.

  "What's a kid doing in iso?" the big one asks nobody in particular.

  The scarred one takes a step forward. I prepare to liquefy the ground under him if necessary.

  "We don't have time for this," the firey one says. "Guards'll be swarming this level soon. Need to move."

  "Kid might know a way out," stretchy fingers suggests. "Hey, you know a way out of these tunnels?"

  I could answer, but I don't trust them.

  The water's getting deeper, now covering my ankles. A steady flow coming from somewhere behind me.

  "Listen," the scarred one says, "I'm Dells. Former geologist. These old mines connect to drainage tunnels that run all the way to Lake Champlain, near Point Henry. But the water's rising fast from that storm. We need to either get higher or find the drainage system."

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Geologist. Useful knowledge of tunnels.

  "I'm heading to Albany," I say finally, my voice sounding strange after the silence. "Anyone going that direction?"

  They exchange looks.

  "Albany's south," the big one says. "Most of us are heading north to Canada."

  The firey one turns to face me. I tense, but he stops at a respectful distance.

  "Listen kid, some free advice. We're splitting up. Smaller groups, different directions. Better chances that way."

  The mutant nods. "Switchback explained it earlier. Game theory. If we all go different ways, they can't catch everyone."

  "Switchback?" I ask.

  "Gravity guy," the scarred one - Dells - explains. "He was explaining it before you showed up. He's in the next chamber with some others."

  As if summoned, a new figure appears at another tunnel entrance. Tall, thin man with gray at his temples. He looks otherwise normal. That means his power is internal.

  "Water's rising faster than expected," he announces. "We need to--" He stops when he sees me. His eyes narrow. "Who's this?"

  "Kid from isolation," the mutant says.

  The newcomer - Switchback, I assume - studies me carefully. "What's your name?"

  "Deathgirl," I say, trying to sound confident. I think all the confidence has been therapized out of me, though. It doesn't feel good anymore. Fuck!

  Recognition flashes in his eyes. Not fear exactly, but awareness. He knows who I am. Or what I am.

  "Deathgirl," he repeats slowly. "The copier."

  The atmosphere changes instantly. Everyone takes a step back. Even the big one looks uneasy now.

  He touched Mr. Waddles. He was in my room.

  I keep the mantra running in my head, staying angry at the tall, kind of fat kidnapper. I can't afford to get angry at anyone here right now. Can't afford to lose this power.

  "I need to get to Albany," I say again, keeping my voice flat. "My parents are there."

  Switchback considers this, then nods toward a woman standing by another tunnel entrance. I hadn't noticed her before. She's tall, with dark skin and close-cropped buzzed hair that looks like it would be annoying to touch.

  "Cold-Cut's heading south," Switchback says. "Not all the way to Albany, but in that direction."

  The woman - Cold-Cut - frowns. "I work alone."

  "She's a kid," Switchback says.

  "She's a liability," Cold-Cut counters.

  I'm used to being talked about like I'm not there. Happens a lot when you're short.

  "I don't need help," I say, even though that's probably a lie. "I have powers."

  "What powers?" Cold-Cut asks sharply.

  I consider demonstrating, but that would mean touching the floor, maybe bringing the ceiling down. Not smart with water rising.

  "Currently, I can turn solids to liquid," I explain instead. "But only stone, concrete, brick. Not metal or people."

  "Currently?" Dells asks, catching the word choice.

  "I copy powers from whoever I'm angriest at," I explain, seeing no reason to hide it. "Right now, that's someone who can liquefy rock. If I get angry at someone else with powers, I'll copy theirs instead. So I think it is all in our best interest, from a game theory point of view, to not piss me off," I explain, deliberately mirroring the earlier commentary. "Lead me to Albany and I'll melt right through any walls or cave-ins for us."

  They all take another step back. Even Switchback looks wary now.

  "That's... useful for tunnels," he says carefully.

  The water reaches my mid-calf now. Cold, numbing my feet. The flow is getting stronger.

  "Look," the firey one says, "we need to move. Now."

  A distant rumble shakes dust from the ceiling. Could be a cave-in somewhere, or guards blasting through barriers.

  Switchback makes a decision. "We're splitting into groups of two or three. Better chance of at least some of us making it."

  He turns to Cold-Cut. "You're heading south. Take the kid."

  "Not happening," she says firmly.

  "I don't want to go with her either," I add. I don't need someone who already resents me.

  Switchback looks between us, then sighs. "Fine. I'll take her partway. I need to loop around to the Northway anyway."

  Cold-Cut's eyes narrow. "Why are you helping her?"

  Switchback doesn't answer immediately. His eyes drift to my face, then away. "My kid would be about her age now," he says finally. "If things had been different."

  I don't care about his sad backstory. I just need to get to Albany. To Mom and Dad.

  "We should move," I say, pointing at the rising water. "Save the Freudians for later,"

  "What's a kid like you know about Freud?" Multi-arms jokes, getting a weak chuckle out of a couple other members of the group.

  Another rumble, closer this time. Everyone tenses.

  "Guards?" the mutant asks.

  "Or cave-in," Dells says. "These tunnels aren't stable, especially with all this water."

  As if to prove his point, a horrendous cascade of thunder booms in the distance, louder than anything I've ever heard in my life, rumbling through the caverns like a roaring animal. "Nonzero shot they just collapse the tunnels on us and wipe their hands of this whole debacle, anyway," Cold-Cut murmurs. The water rises a little higher.

  "This way," Switchback says to me, moving toward the tunnel he came from. "There's a maintenance shaft that leads up to an old adit. We can--"

  The ceiling between us collapses. It's not as dramatic as I would've expected, but it still makes everyone jump, and dumps a fresh load of new floodwater down into the tunnels. However fast they were flooding before, it looks like they're flooding even faster now. And I can't tell in the dark if I'm heavy enough to melt through the partial cave-in without getting waterlogged, or worse, washed away. Even if I crawled over, I might get stuck. Get hypothermia.

  Can't die here. I have to reach Albany.

  "Go around!" Switchback yells over the noise. "Follow the blue pipes! Meet at Junction 12! That's where we're all headed!"

  I don't know where Junction 12 is, but I nod anyway. Blue pipes. I can follow pipes.

  Cold-Cut appears at my side, looking annoyed. "Looks like you're stuck with me for now, kid," she says.

  I don't argue. The water's rising too fast. We need to move.

  "This way," she says, heading toward a different tunnel. "I'm not gonna fight you, because there's no reason to do that right now. You survive, I survive, we can bitch at each other later, okay?"

  "Sure," I reply flatly. I follow, keeping some distance between us. I don't trust her, but I don't have many options.

  He touched Mr. Waddles. He was in my room.

  I repeat it silently as we splash through the rising water. Keep the anger fresh. Keep the power active. I'll need it.

  Cold-Cut leads me into a narrow passage. The ceiling is lower here, forcing me to hunch slightly. She moves confidently, one hand trailing along the wall. Ice spreads through the water like plant roots in fast-forward, plugging up cracks in the ceiling. Cold-Cut, you could've frozen that little waterfall that got in the way. But at this point, Switchback is too far away to double-back, and the way we came is probably totally full.

  Gotta keep moving uphill. "Just head straight. I'll tell you when we need to turn," I say, feeling the shapes and contours of the tunnel with my... weird mole vision.

  "Sure," she says, as the light in the distance all but runs out.

  "So you freeze things," I observe.

  "Among other things," she replies without looking back.

  The passage slopes upward, which is good. Up means away from flooding. The water level drops to our ankles again.

  "Why are you going south?" I ask. "Everyone else is heading to Canada."

  She's quiet for several seconds. "Unfinished business," she says finally. "Then, Canada."

  Not very informative, but I don't push. People hate being questioned about their motivations. I learned that from Miss Patches.

  We reach another junction. Cold-Cut pauses, looking down each passage. Blue pipes run along the ceiling of the rightmost tunnel. She points. In the very, very, very distance, small little lights. Something orange and flickery, just barely enough photons to make out the shapes in this hungry dark.

  "Your gravity friend went that way."

  I follow her gaze. "You're not coming?"

  "I told you, I work alone." She starts toward the left passage.

  "Wait," I say, surprising myself. "The water's still rising. We'd have better odds together."

  She stops, studying me with calculating eyes. "You just want to use my freezing abilities."

  I shrug. No point denying the obvious. "And you could use my liquefaction if we hit a cave-in. Tactical alliance."

  Her mouth twitches, almost a smile. "Tactical alliance. You talk like a little soldier."

  I don't respond to that. I am what they made me.

  Cold-Cut considers, then nods toward the blue-piped tunnel. "Fine. Until we reach Junction 12. Then I go my way, you go yours."

  Fair enough. I follow the blue pipes, Cold-Cut walking beside me now rather than ahead. Progress.

  He touched Mr. Waddles. He was in my room.

  Gotta keep chasing him.