During the guard’s long midday break, guaranteed by a large cup of coffee sweetened with laxatives, Kyungsoo crept out of the room and sidled over to the nurse’s station. As luck would have it, his favorite angel-nurse was on duty. Her eyes widened in surprise when Kyungsoo slid into view, but stayed silent when Kyungsoo put his finger to his lips.

“The police are transferring the prisoner today,” Kyungsoo whispered, making a great show of keeping a wary eye out for witnesses. “Too many people know he’s here, and we don’t want to risk any violence in the hospital.”

“I haven’t heard anything about a transfer,” the nurse whispered back, reaching for a binder. “Are you using the helipad?”

If only, Kyungsoo thought to himself. Out loud, he told her, “Nothing’s been documented officially. We’re using a ground transport, and I’ll be moving him there alone to keep things quiet. The full security detail is waiting outside of the hospital.”

“The attending still needs to authorize the transfer,” the nurse murmured, doubt creeping across her face. “I’m not sure the patient is stable enough to be moved right now.”

Kyungsoo leaned over the counter, lowering his voice even further. “We’ve been exaggerating his condition to keep the peace.” He glanced over his shoulder again, letting his real apprehension show. Everything up to this point had been pure fiction, but now a little nugget of truth was needed. “He’s awake.”

The nurse gasped in shock,her hands flying into the air, and Kyungsoo shushed her anxiously. “The doctor already knows, of course,” he rushed to explain. “That’s why we’re moving him as soon as possible. It’s only a matter of time before that crowd outside finds out about this.”

Kyungsoo’s angel-nurse, demonstrating further her heavenly origins, went pale, reacting to Kyungsoo’s little truth-bomb in exactly the right way. “Some might storm the hospital to get to him. So many people could get hurt!” Her voice rose at the last part and she covered in consternation. “You need to go now!” she mouthed.

Kyungsoo stood by nervously, biting his lip as the nurse delicately unhooked Yeol from his monitoring equipment and loaded him into a wheelchair. She moved slowly and was painstakingly gentle, but Yeol was still pale and sweating by the time she was done. He was stiff as a statue with both arms and his leg encased in plaster and a brace immobilizing his neck and spine, and his thinly pressed lips betrayed how uncomfortable he was. Kyungsoo took charge of the wheelchair as soon as the nurse stepped away, snapping a pair of handcuffs around the wrist of each cast and linking them to the wheelchair arms. That earned him a dirty look from Yeol, and Kyungsoo poked him in the forehead.

“Keep those eyes down, convict,” he ordered, throwing an uneasy glance at the nurse. One wrong move and their charade would fall apart. He bowed to her, thanking her for her help, and wheeled Yeol away as fast as he could move, practically jogging down the corridor to the elevator. The guard was out of commission, but his replacement could arrive any minute. He jabbed the elevator button seventeen times, eyes darting over the corridor, waiting for someone to recognize Yeol and sound the alarm, before the doors finally pinged open to admit them. Inside the elevator, Kyungsoo fumbled a dust mask from his pocket and slid it over Yeol’s face before jamming a surgeon’s cap over that distinctive mop of red hair. Yeol didn’t make a sound during the tense journey to the hospital’s main level as people got on and off the elevator. Nobody gave them a second glance, but Kyungsoo’s heart was pounding by the time they arrived at their floor.

He hastily wheeled Yeol towards the less-used visitor’s entrance, but when they were only steps away from the lobby, Yeol hissed suddenly, and Kyungsoo froze.

“Sweater vest,” Yeol’s voice was barely audible, and Kyungsoo knelt down to hear. “Sweater vest by the door.”

Kyungsoo surveyed the lobby, confused, before he spotted the nondescript, bespectacled man in a sweater vest lounging with a magazine by the main door. Kyungsoo studied the man, noting the mechanical speed of his page turning, and the way the thick rims of his glasses hid his eyes. Slowly, he stepped backwards, pulling Yeol back to the corridor and out of the man’s line of sight. Inquisitive Kyungsoo wanted to question Yeol’s ability to spot such an innocuous observer, but on-task Kyungsoo chalked it up to his years of evading law enforcement and squashed any further thoughts. He pulled out his phone and re-read the text from his father, studying the picture he’d sent of Kyungsoo’s car after leaving it in the hospital parking lot that morning. He thought he would feel worse about roping his family into a prison break, but for now he just needed everything to keep going according to plan. Stuffing the phone back into his pocket, he knelt beside the wheelchair again so Yeol could see him.

“You think we should make a break for it?” Kyungsoo suggested, unlocking the handcuffs as he spoke. “My car is in the third row from the door. Even if that guy calls for backup, we might make it if I run. If he chases us, I can take him.”

Yeol shook his head as strongly as he could. “The militia will just get your license number from the CCTV and track your car.”

Kyungsoo sneered. “Whatever this militia is, they aren’t the police. By the time they get access to the CCTV, we’ll be long gone.”

“We’ll never make it out of this neighborhood,” Yeol argued. “They could do something to slow us down, like mess with the traffic lights. One traffic jam, and we’d be trapped for hours, sitting ducks.”

Kyungsoo wanted to laugh off such an idea, except, for all he knew, these phantom assassins could have legions of hackers at their disposal. He knew nothing about their resources or capabilities, only that they were quite doggedly pursuing the goal of turning Yeol into a corpse. He chewed his lip pensively, scrubbing his face as he tried to think of a plan. His eyes wandered over to the elevator, and he snapped his fingers in excitement as a idea formed.

“We’ll try the underground parking structure,” Kyungsoo explained hurriedly, hopping to his feet. Back on the elevator, he pushed the unmarked button that would take them down to the lowest level. “You can’t get in or out without an employee ID, so there’s a chance no-one will be watching it. I’ll leave you down there, get my car, and we’ll make a clean getaway before anyone realizes you’re gone.” As soon as the elevator doors opened, Kyungsoo jogged them out into the dimly-lit lot, the smell of damp concrete and stale exhaust enveloping them. The winding ramp to the entrance of the lot was blocked only by an automated barrier— there wasn’t another soul in sight. Kyungsoo parked Yeol beside the barrier and hopped over it, giving it two taps.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, and Yeol’s eyes widened in disbelief as the cop began trotting up the ramp.

“You’re actually leaving me here?!”

“Right back!” Kyungsoo repeated, rounding the corner.

“Yah! I don’t like this plan!” Yeol’s voice ricocheted off the walls as Kyungsoo picked up speed. The narrow road coiled on itself three times before opening up into cloudy daylight, and Kyungsoo paused only to orient himself before sprinting off to find his car.

The sleek blue hybrid, his pride and joy, was just where his father had described, and a brief patdown of the inside of the rear bumper revealed the keys. Kyungsoo threw a glance toward the hospital entrance as he climbed into his car and was gratified to see the observer in the same position, his back to the parking lot, attention focused on the lobby. The chants of protestors drifted through the air, and Kyungsoo grimaced in their direction as he slid behind the wheel. Short minutes later, he eased his car to a stop at the bottom of the staff parking lot ramp, his headlights illuminating Yeol’s glower.

Hauling the arsonist’s lanky, plasterbound form from the wheelchair into the front seat, fully reclined and jammed as far back as it would go, was accomplished with groans and cursing through gritted teeth. The wheelchair, folded up, was hastily stashed in the trunk.

“I can’t believe you left me there,” Yeol grumbled, awkwardly trying adjust the rolled up blanket Kyungsoo had tucked under his broken leg.

“It was temporary,” Kyungsoo said absently as he guided the car out of the underground lot. “Right now we have a bigger problem to deal with.” He coasted to the last row of cars in the hospital’s lot, squinting at the line of protestors blocking the way out. As they sat there, another car squeezed its way out of the lot, but not before getting a thorough once-over.

“Who are all those people?” There was a low whirr as Yeol raised his seat higher, peeking over the dashboard.

“Keep your head down,” Kyungsoo warned. “Those are the families of all the people who died in the prison fire, and probably a few from your other fires as well. They’ve been campaigning to have the hospital discontinue your treatment and remove all life support.”

Yeol made a face. “So much for my faith in humanity.”

“They’re harassing everyone that enters or leaves - there’s no chance we get out of this parking lot without someone recognizing you. Or me, for that matter.”

“Run ‘em down,” Yeol suggested, which Kyungsoo didn’t bother acknowledging.

“We need some kind of diversion,” he mused out loud.

Yeol’s seat whirred a little higher, and he craned his neck to see the protestors. “Do you see anyone wearing red?”

Kyungsoo frowned at the weird request. He could see hundreds of people, most of them wearing black funeral clothes and white bands on their head or arms. He climbed out the car, standing on tiptoe to see over the top of the sea of cars, scanning the vast ring of people surrounding the hospital. A flash of color caught his attention, and he squinted, trying to make out the source, but it was too far away. He took a picture of the little blot of color with his phone and climbed back into his seat to show Yeol.

“I can’t see that far, but I think there’s someone wearing red,” he told him, holding up the phone so Yeol could see the picture. Kyungsoo tried zooming in, but it only turned the blot into a larger cluster of bright red pixels. “What’s so important about it?”

“Dial this number,” Yeol instructed, and Kyungsoo, bemused by the non-sequitur but willing to play along, complied as Yeol listed out a phone number from memory. Kyungsoo switched his phone into speaker mode, and they both listened intently as the phone rang. On the fourth ring, a girl’s voice answered breathlessly, nearly drowned out by angry chanting in the background.

“What?!” she demanded rudely, and Kyungsoo’s eyebrows rose at her tone.

“Minji-yah!” Yeol drawled. “It’s me!”

There was a long, drawn out pause. “O…Oppa?”

Yeol beamed at the phone. “I knew you’d know my voice.”

“Oppaaaa!!”

Kyungsoo eyes watered as he dropped the phone in Yeol’s lap, plugging his ears against the intensity of the squeal. “Why is she screaming?” he complained, when she paused for breath. Yeol waggled his eyebrows in response, his grin growing even wider.

“Oppa, you’re alive!” Minji rejoiced, the chanting in the background fading, replaced by a new chorus of excited squeals.

“Are the rest of my Lighters with you?” Yeol guessed, and the phone buzzed against his cast with the resulting screams of affirmation.

Kyungsoo rolled his eyes in disgust. “It’s your fanclub?”

“Minji,” Yeol continued, ignoring Kyungsoo pantomimed gagging, “I need your help.”

“Oppa saranghae!” a different voice bellowed into the phone, followed by the sound of a swift slap.

“Quiet! Oppa is talking.” Minji ordered, her voice stern. “What do you need?”

Barely five minutes passed before a roar rose from the crowd, and all of the protestors blocking their way out began stampeding across the parking lot to the opposite side of the hospital. Kyungsoo whipped the blanket from under Yeol’s leg and flung it over his head before pulling his own shirt over his face. The car rocked a little as the outraged wave of people shoved their way past, gunning for the FreeYeol girls. As soon as the path was clear, Kyungsoo threw the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving a layer of rubber behind. Once they’d made a couple of blocks away with no sign of anyone following, he pounded the steering wheel in exultation.

“It worked!” he crowed. “I don’t know what those crazy girls did, but it worked!”

Yeol fought his way free of the blanket.”First of all, OW,” he said indignantly. “Second, of course it worked. My Lighters know how to start a fire.” He chuckled at his own cleverness.

“Will they be okay, though?” Kyungsoo asked, looking back, a bit worried as he remembered the rage in the crowd. “There were a lot of people chasing them.”

“They’ve been doing this for years, remember? If the cops couldn’t catch them, a few angry housewives won’t be able to either.” Yeol smirked to himself. “Minji is a sneaky girl. My type.”

“You should marry her if you like her so much,” Kyungsoo scoffed, and Yeol’s face lit up with mischief.

“She’d be much happier to know you were helping me,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I told them we’re a couple.”

Kyungsoo wailed in horror, fingers clawed on the steering wheel as he drove out of the city, Yeol cackling his head off by his side.