" My hands shake as I rehearse my plan. Run out the doorway. Grab the edge of the Wall. Vault over. Slam my hands against the steel ribbing as I fall. Slide down and escape into the vast, treacherous darkness of the Wasteland with nothing but my wits and my knife.
It can work. It has to work.
I take a deep breath and sprint out the door.
I haven't gone more than three yards before I slam into a hard, unyielding obstacle. Strong fingers reach out to grab my arms, and I look up.
Commander Chase.
Terror rips a white-hot path through my body, and I can barely breathe.
I'm dead. "
-p. 55-56
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