I don't wait for Beckett, already running toward the retreating lights. The crew must have fought off the attacking Brights, and again I wonder why they seem so weak.

The exit lands me on a cracking concrete walkway, two steps and I'm running down an asphalt road, the illumination up ahead enough I can see to leap over areas damaged by nature and time. I pass a sign, the name unreadable, not caring anyway where we are or who might have lived here once.

Only Vander ...