The sun is coming up by the time we emerge from underground. I glance at Vander, concerned. I know he, like other Brights, is photosensitive, but he smiles at me, pulling on a pair of gloves and jerking his ball cap down over his face. A scarf covers the lower half, wrapped around his neck while sunglasses shield his eyes.

"I'll be fine," he says. "I've done this before, remember?"

I have to trust he knows what he's doing.

I glance back over my shoulder at the ...