D. MacHale - Storm

“Have you seen Olivia?” I asked innocently.

“Why?” he asked. “Are you going to ask her to escape with you?”

Uh-oh.

He knew everything.

I felt a surge of energy fly past my head. I ducked as the deadly bolt hit the wall behind me, blowing out a fat chunk of cement.

He knew everything.

My first instinct was to pull off my headlamp. If he was going to shoot me, I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. I yanked it off and threw it. Before it hit the ground, the light exploded. Chris was a good shot and had his own headlamp to light me up. All I could do was become a difficult target.

“You think I can’t see you?” Chris taunted.

The headlamps were powerful, but cast a narrow beam. I started flipping the steel cots onto their sides to create barriers between us. Each time I flipped one up, I dodged to the other side of the narrow room to grab another one.

Chris had the same kind of energy-shooting baton weapon that Feit’s bodyguards had. That eliminated any doubt that he was working with the Air Force—and it confirmed that the soldiers who were on their way weren’t going to be paying a friendly visit. He fired and hit one of the cots. The metal springs blew apart, and I felt the shrapnel nick at my clothes as it sailed by. He fired again and blew apart a mattress, sending a cloud of stuffing into the air.

The narrow light from his headlamp moved as he did. It gave the dark basement a surreal feel, as if we were trapped inside a strobe light. It was hard to see where I was going, which meant it was hard for Chris to see me as well. That was my one hope.

There was a fire exit on the far end of the building that nobody used. It was my only escape route, so I kept upending beds as I backed toward it.

“You don’t have to die here,” Chris called out. I sensed the frustration in his voice. “Which is worse: working for us… or death?”

My answer was to continue to pick up everything I could find to throw at him. I tossed small tables and suitcases and upended many more beds, all in the desperate attempt to throw him off. He couldn’t get a clear shot at me and kept firing wildly. Everything that vicious weapon hit exploded, sending out sharp particles that filled the air.

Finally, my back hit the wall. For a quick moment I panicked, thinking I was trapped in a dead end, until I realized I had reached the far side—and the way out. I quickly slid along the wall until I hit the metal bar on the door. I pushed back, and the door swung open. Once through, I dodged to my right, putting the wall between Chris and me. A second later the door was blown off its hinges.

There was faint, gray light coming from the top of the stairs. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to see where I was going. I ran for the staircase and climbed, taking three steps at a time. My confidence surged. I was going to make it out… and then I had to make a decision. Should I head for the Explorer? Or look for Olivia in the mess hall?

I reached the ground floor and blasted out of the fire door to find a group of survivors gathered together, looking confused. They had heard the ruckus in the basement.

“This is a setup!” I screamed. “Chris is with the Air Force. Soldiers are headed this way. Get outta here, now!”

I ran off, leaving them dumbfounded. There was no way that any of them would take me at my word and think: “Really? Chris is a bad guy? Thanks for the heads-up, Tucker, old pal, we’ll leave right away.” But what else could I do? I hoped that the sounds of the fight below would at least get them thinking. If not, maybe seeing Chris chasing me with a weapon would help them understand.

I ran out of the building and stopped short. Left was the Explorer. Right was the mess hall. And Olivia. Hopefully.

I went right.

As I sprinted for the south building, I passed a few people who were strolling casually, enjoying the cool fall morning.

“Get out!” I shouted. “There’s going to be an attack on the Hall!”

I figured the less detail, the better. The people stared at me as if I was crazed because, well, I was crazed. But if my rant saved just one person, it would have been worth it.

I blew through the door leading to the mess hall to find… nobody.

“Olivia!” I screamed.

It was early for the lunch crew to start work, and Olivia wasn’t known for being on time, let alone early. But I had to make sure, so I jammed past the empty dining tables and into the kitchen.

There were two chefs inside, chopping vegetables for the day’s batch of soup. They both jumped with surprise.

“Is Olivia Kinsey here?” I demanded.

“In the kitchen?” one chef said sarcastically. “Seriously?” He knew Olivia.

“Get outta here,” I shouted. “The Hall’s about to be attacked.” The two chefs looked at one another with confusion. “How do you know that?” one asked.

The answer he got wasn’t what he wanted.

The kitchen door flew open behind me. I dove away in time to miss getting hit by the shot Chris Campbell fired at me.

The chef wasn’t as lucky. He took the shot square in the chest. It knocked him back onto the stove, where his jacket caught fire from the burner. The other chef pulled him off the stove and onto the floor to try to smother the flames, but I didn’t think it would matter. A direct shot from that weapon probably killed him on impact.

I grabbed a tray and flung it wildly in Chris’s direction. It flew like an oversized Frisbee directly for him. It missed, but it made him duck.

That gave me time to dive behind the cooking line. I scrambled on my hands and knees between the tall work counter and the stoves behind it. I had to crawl over the body of the downed chef and his friend, who was still frantically snuffing flames.

“What is happening?” the second chef cried in a panic.

Chris fired again. This time his shot sailed over the counter and hit the giant vat of boiling soup. The steel vessel tore open, spilling the scalding liquid onto the floor. The deluge missed the two chefs entirely, but I was hit on the leg by the boiling liquid. I felt the intense heat through my jeans and had to bite my lip so as not to scream out, but it didn’t stop me from moving.

I crawled to the far side of the kitchen, still shielded by the counter, toward a door on the back wall that led to a small room ringed with steel racks loaded with dishes, glasses, and bowls. I scrambled inside as another shot from Chris blasted the tiled wall, sending out an explosion of slivered glass. If any hit me, I didn’t know it. I was too charged with adrenaline and fear. I stayed low and pulled over one of the steel shelving units. It was heavy, but again, I was so charged up that it came down as easily as a Jenga tower. The rack hit the doorway, and the plates slid off, crashing to the floor. I jumped deeper into the room and pulled down another shelf, and another. The room was small enough that Chris would have trouble following quickly.

Every second counted. I gave up hope of finding Olivia and now focused on getting out of there. That would be tricky. I didn’t want to get shot, but I also didn’t want to lead Chris back to Tori and the others.

The small room led to a pantry that emptied out into a common service hallway. I didn’t stop to think or strategize; I just ran to daylight, which was through a door on the far end that led outside. I hit the door and blasted out to find myself back in the courtyard between the two buildings. My first thought was to run back to the north building, get inside and out of sight, and make my way east to the far end, where I’d be close to the Explorer.

My second thought was that I wasn’t going anywhere.

When I jumped outside, I was faced with a handful of Chris’s cowboys… surrounding Olivia and Jon.