The Spy Who Totally Had a Crush on Me
Page 16
With tears running down my face, I ran through the door and up the stairs. I didn’t want to leave him, and I was scared and crying. But Brent was smart about this stuff. Maybe he would know what to do. Please, Brent. Please don’t die.
I was concentrating on not falling, running as hard as I could. I tried not to count down the seconds. My head was still cloudy from the chemical and I felt woozy and couldn’t think straight. I heard something on the steps above and looked up in time to see Rinteau barreling down on me. He crashed into me and we fell down a few steps, and then he righted himself and kept running until he entered the door to the situation room.
“Brent!” I screamed.
Time seemed to stand still. I struggled to rise, but my legs didn’t work any longer. I tried to keep count of the seconds in my head, but I couldn’t keep track anymore.
Suddenly Pilar was there, chasing after Rinteau. She was almost to the door. I looked up from where I lay on the steps and shouted.
“Pilar no!” I screamed. But it was too late. There was a low thumping sound. I thought it was strange that Pilar had somehow learned to fly. Then came the loudest noise I’ve ever heard. I remember screaming. I remember a hot rush of air blowing over me and driving me to the ground.
After that, all I can remember is the darkness.
EPILOGUE
Four Days Later
I DON’T REMEMBER CLEARLY how we got out. I remember Alex had been higher up the stairs, farthest from the blast. By the look on his face, I could tell he was shouting at me as I lay there, but I couldn’t hear him. My ears weren’t working for some reason. I remember that he disappeared.
Later, when I could hear again, I learned he’d carried Pilar up the stairs to Mr. Kim’s office. Then he’d raced back down and into the rubble to find Brent.
Brent …
Mr. Kim told me Rinteau had connected the explosives together so they would go off in a chain reaction. Brent had managed to defuse all but two of the segments of the chain. With time running out and unable to get to the door, he must have dove beneath the conference table. It shielded him somewhat, but Alex had to dig him out of a pile of rubble. Not knowing if there could be more explosives, he carried Brent up the stairs to the office. Then he came back for me. By then I could walk, but I was still disoriented and couldn’t hear.
Pilar had been driven hard into the stairway and had a bad concussion. She was going to be okay. Rinteau was nowhere to be found. Our best guess is that he ran out the back entrance and made it to the road behind the school. I hoped he had a butt full of shrapnel, if he had managed it. The thickness of the mountain had saved the school from any serious damage, except a few broken windows. Mr. Kim put Mrs. Marquardt in charge of running things.
Brent was in a coma. The doctors didn’t have a prognosis. He might live, he might not. That was it in a nutshell. He might die because he was trying to save us.
Pilar and Brent were in a room at a secret government hospital. I sat in their room all day. Listening to the sounds of the monitors. The squeak of the nurses’ shoes on the floor as they came and went taking care of my friends. The whimpering sounds Pilar would make as she slept. Brent’s shallow and labored breathing. Mr. Kim was there constantly. Alex was there the entire time, too. We talked very little.
All I could do was think about one thing.
Revenge.
You want to take us out, Simon? You want a war? Well, it’s coming. No more sitting back waiting for you to make the first move or show yourself. I’m going to find you. No one, not even Mr. Kim, is going to stop me.
I’m coming for you, Simon.
Me.
Rachel Buchanan.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times bestselling author Michael P. Spradlin is the author of more than twenty books for children and adults. His works include the international bestselling Youngest Templar series, the Killer Species series, and several picture books. He is fluent in Australian, British, Canadian, South African, and several other English-based languages. Sharks swim in the other direction when he steps into the ocean. He has a black belt in television remote control. He does not understand why VHS tapes “have not made a comeback.”
Spradlin lives in Lapeer, Michigan. Lapeer is French for the peer, which is a big joke on the French because there is no peer there. Unless you count Michael P. Spradlin. But even he is without peer. Sorry, French.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Michael P. Spradlin
Cover design by Elizabeth Connor
978-1-4804-5789-8
Published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
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