by Casey Hays
“Man,” he cringes.
His palm bubbles for a few seconds and folds together in healing. I spot the thick cloth hanging on a rack next to the door and scoop it up. The door creaks open on its hinges, and the singeing heat of the fires below hits us straight in the face. I shuffle back a step bracing myself against it.
We take no time dumping armloads of the bags of Serum through the square hole. The plastic melts almost immediately, and the blue liquid runs downward to the fiery grave below. A few times, it ignites, shooting flames back at us out of the open door.
Under different circumstances, this would have been fun—my best friend and I playing with fire, daring each other to get close to the flames, taking bets on who would back down first. Not today. Today, we band together in an entirely different kind of game. The kind that could get us killed. And it’s not a bit fun.
We return to the lab and load the last of the Serum. The lobby is silent as we race through it, and I let myself begin to believe everything is going to be okay. Once the Serum is gone, the Vortex will have no reason to fight us. We can seek a truce.
It’s a fleeting hope. Because I know they won’t outright believe us if we tell them there is no cure here. They will not rest until they’ve turned Eden inside out in their search. And how many more people will die before they’re convinced we have nothing for them? With a stab of apprehension, I angle my cart and follow Justin through the lobby and around the corner.
The incinerator burns hotter. We work quickly, and finally, the last bag slides over the lip of the opening and bursts into flames. Justin and I look at each other, tension shouldering both of us, and then I smile, wiping the back of my hand across my forehead. With a small laugh, Justin slams the incinerator door closed.
“We did it,” I nod, crossing my arms over my chest. He licks his lips.
“We—”
“Justin!”
The sharp trill of Doc’s voice turns my blood cold, and I cringe as Justin’s face goes completely white. Here we go.
I whip around, holding up my hands in defense.
“Doc, just hear us out.”
He marches toward us his eyes lit with fierce panic bordering on madness. He glances at the empty carts, his mouth dropping in stunned silence. Suddenly the panic shifts to anger, and in a moment of blind rage, he swings a heavy fist, slamming it straight into Justin’s face. The crack of Justin’s jaw breaking echoes through the hallway as he flies backwards, catapulting into the wall behind us. A crack splits across its surface, and Justin falls to the ground with a painful grunt. Doc turns his anger on me, but I’m too quick. I whisk out of his way, zip behind him and yank him into a chokehold.
“Dr. Phillips, cool it!” I scream into his ear.
He struggles, his fingers grappling with my arm wrapped securely around his neck.
“You have just destroyed everything I’ve ever worked for!” he wheezes.
He tugs downward, and I deliberately let him loose and move a speedy step to the right as his arm swings out toward me.
“I’m sorry, Doc. But we can’t let you do this anymore.”
“You can’t let me?” His fists ball up next to his thighs. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“No, Dad.” Justin uses the wall to pull himself to his feet. He holds his jaw in place, letting the Serum do its work as he talks through clenched teeth. “We know exactly what we’re doing.” He shakes his head, takes a step forward. “Do you? There is an enemy right outside the door ready to kill us all over a cure that doesn’t exist. Dad . . .” His voice pleads. “It has to end before you create something you can’t control. We have to be the end of it.”
Doc stares at his son, disappointment written all over his face. And then he smiles a weak, sad smile with a shake of his head.
“It’s not the end.” Doc’s voice cracks, his watery eyes full of pain. “Until there is a cure, there will never be an end.”
“I destroyed the files, too,” Justin confesses. He drops his hand from his jaw, and meets his father’s astonished gaze. I hold my breath, alarm bells clanging inside my head.
Doc holds perfectly still a second longer, and then he lunges. But I’m there, shoving him backwards and away from Justin.
“Don’t you see what’s going on Doc?” I fume, my anger finally catching up with me. “You’re precious Serum has started a war. Don’t you care?”
“What I care about is the cure.” He glares at Justin. “You saw those babies—with your own eyes. I’m so close. So close. No weapon, no virus, nothing will be able to take them down.”
“At what cost?” Justin raises his hands in resignation. “Dad, the virus is a terrible thing. We get that. But you can’t do this. Shifting babies is wrong.”
“It will save them,” he responds, a quiet deference to his voice.
“Dad, you’re not God.”
My eyes shift from Doc to Justin. Doc stands very still, staring at his son. And then he squints.
“Who are you? Because you sure as hell aren’t my son.”
Justin’s face turns as pale as ice, and the tears well up. But a booming blast shakes the walls, and the ceiling begins to crumble down in an avalanche of debris on top of us. The building shakes with a fierce trembling.
“We have to get out of here,” I yell, bracing myself against the wall. When Doc doesn’t move, I step in.
The lights flicker, stamp out completely. I hold my breath, my eyes on the ceiling. The hallway brightens again. I take several backward steps up the hall in the direction of the lobby.
“Let’s go!”
“Where’s Mom?” Justin asks. Another chunk of ceiling breaks free and falls in clumps. He covers his head. “Dad, where’s Mom?”
“I don’t—” Worry suddenly sears through his eyes. “In the children’s ward.”
The building rumbles like a growling monster. The ground beneath us shifts, and a large crevice opens, separating me from Justin and Doc. In a quick flash, I leap as the floor gives way and crumbles into the tunnels below. Justin looks at me from across the cavern, and my stomach tightens.
“I’ll get your mom!” I scream. “Just . . . get out of here!”
He nods, his expression full of doubt, and a strong feeling of doom slides over me. Because I understand the odds fully.
We’re trapped—inside a titanium building.
Chapter 39
T
he building shakes with another blast, just before I reach the lobby, and the sounds of multiple shouting voices resonate through the gaping hole where the front windows used to be. The titanium panels are bent inward in craggy, splintering fragments, and soldiers press their faces between the broken pieces, searching the area inside. I back into the hallway, masking myself in the shadows, and in my head, I map out my route through the debris. It’s dark, and I know a flashlight or two will flicker to life any minute. So I crouch against the wall and wait for the light that will illuminate my path.
The minute a beam sweeps across the cluttered floor, I lunge forward, kick up my speed, and breeze through in a blink.
I chance a glance toward the entrance as I pass by. The front steps are thick with Vortex soldiers. I frown. Where are the guards? Are they all dead? The thought tramples over me, and my heartbeat quickens. I disappear into the east wing.
I never make it to the ward. The wall to my right explodes, bashing me up against the door on my left. The weight of my body crushes into the frame, and the door shatters inward, blowing me into the room with a splintering shower of wood and glass and metal fragments. I crash into an examination table, the air bursting out of my lungs on impact. Debris flies in, knocking me and the examination table over and burying me under a pile of bricks and stucco and bits and pieces of titanium. A sliver of metal slices through my bicep, protruding through the other side like a threaded needle, and I hiss between my teeth.
When the dust settles, I shove debris out of the way, untangling myself from the mess. My left leg is
buried the heaviest. Using my good arm, I dig it out of the rubble and hoist myself to my feet. The minute I put weight on my foot, I know my ankle is broken. I wince, sitting again as the Serum rushes in to do its job. I concentrate on the sliver of titanium pierced through my arm. It’s sharp, and when I wrap my fingers around the end to yank, I do nothing more than to slice through my palm and fingers. Wincing, I pull away. My fingers tingle with healing, but I don’t chance pulling the piece out barehanded again.
I ease myself to my feet and scan my surroundings. I’m in an examination room. The blast ignited a few small fires, but nothing too impressive. My bow is busted, hanging in two pieces down my back. I untangle myself from the string and toss it away along with the half full quiver.
I press down on my ankle. It’s good, so I climb over the mess of rubble surrounding me, stomping out the fires as I go. At a long cabinet, I find a thick cloth. That’ll do. Another blast shakes the building, and I clutch the edge of the counter for support. What are these guys up to? Are they planning to collapse the building completely? What good will that do them?
Working quickly, I take hold of the metal fragment, and I pull hard and fast.
Pain sears through my entire arm, but I manage to free the piece. I drop it with a clank. My arm bleeds fast as my heart pumps the blood through the opening, but the Serum soon takes over, the bleeding slows, and the wound slides closed. I wipe the blood away to reveal smooth, unimpaired skin.
Shouts and sounds of stomping feet resound in the hallway. I scramble to the other side of the blown door, pressing up against the wall, and peer around the broken frame carefully.
A group of soldiers tramps along the hallway, assessing the damage, investigating the area. They have their guns up, alert, on guard. I can only see one or two at a time as they come into view, their heads bobbing from left to right, searching the hallways. I hear them trying a few doors that are still intact. One guy sticks his large head through the door of my room, his eyes roaming over the other side first; I shrink back, adrenaline pumping. One turn of his head, and he’ll see me.
My fists tighten, and I prepare myself for a fight, but suddenly, the lights flicker and black out. The soldier steps in, looks up, peers around the interior of the suddenly dark room. He flips on a flashlight, waving over the area before he eases back out.
“There’s nothing in here,” he hollers. “Let’s move on. You know what we’re looking for, boys.”
Multiple flashlights flicker on, and another explosion shudders the walls. The vibrations climb up my spine, and the soldiers stumble into each other.
“What the hell are they doing?” one soldier exclaims. “They can cut the explosives now. We’re in.”
“I don’t think that’s us,” another responds. Complete silence follows as the others digest what he’s said.
“It’s a trap. Let’s find what we came for and get out.”
They move out, clearing the hallway, and turning a corner at the end. I let out a long breath, and stick my head out the door, scanning.
So our guys are the cause of these explosions. I smile. Good.
There’s no way I can maneuver through the damage without a light, so I dip back into the room, feeling my way to a cabinet. I search the drawers. Nothing. Slamming an angry fist into the countertop, I move to another cabinet flinging open the doors and searching the shelves with my fingers.
Finally, at the very back of the last shelf, I locate a surgical head lamp. I grab it up, flipping the small switch on the side. Nothing happens. Exasperated, I bang on the side until a dim light flickers on. The batteries are low, but it’s better than nothing.
My heartbeat thuds as I ease into the hallway again, checking both directions, and I could kick myself that I wasn’t able to get to the children’s ward before these guys infiltrated the building. Now, I have no weapon, and it’s one thing to face these guys alone in the open. I’m not too keen on a fight in an enclosed area. It’s risky.
Panic ensues when I think of those babies—five little lives with top of the line Serum running through their veins. It dawns on me right then and there how serious it will be when the Vortex finds them. In their limited knowledge about us, these soldiers will immediately take those babies as a sign that Eden has a cure.
I pause shining the light in the direction of the retreating soldiers as my mind tries to formulate a plan. And then, another blast changes everything as a section of the wall on both sides of the hallway caves in. I whip out from under the ceiling just before it collapses in a crushing heap, blocking the only exit for those soldiers . . .
. . . and the only way to the children’s ward and Mrs. Phillips.
I clench my fists, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I turn back toward the lobby.
I move as quickly as I can through the damaged and cluttered hall toward the lobby, leaping over piles and skimming across debris until I reach the end of the hall. Voices filter toward me. I kneel behind a pile of rubble and cut the light on the headlamp.
The Vortex soldiers have taken a hard hit. Whether this is from the blasts of their own men or ours, I can’t say, but they stumble around in the carnage, disoriented and maimed. In the beams of twinkling flashlights, I see their blood dripping down the walls wet and gleaming like scarlet paint. It spreads across the debris in splattering dots. The sight is gruesome. Chunks of flesh donned in tattered pieces of bloody uniforms cling to everything. One soldier screams in agony, clutching his footless leg, and I feel my gorge rising as I fight the nausea. A section of the front entrance is peeled back like an aluminum can, and from my angle, I strain to see out into the streets. It’s dark. The power must be down all over the city. Nothing moves outside, but our guys are out there somewhere. The bloody scene inside this lobby proves they have to be.
The screaming soldier resorts to weeping. He drags his body weakly across the floor to rest against the one intact wall. He’s lost nearly all his blood, and none of the others pay him any mind as the last of his life seeps out in the scarlet flow. My hands tremble, and I clasp them together to still them.
“God,” I whisper. “I need you. I’m—I’m scared. Please tell me what to do.”
In that instant, gunfire fills my ears, and I shrink back, my blood pounding in my ears. Three Vortex soldiers flail backwards and go down to the lobby floor—dead. I scramble to my feet, still clutching the headlamp, anxious shockwaves rolling over me. More gunfire explodes outside the building. I chance moving closer, but suddenly, a flood of shouting Vortex soldiers, flashlights swinging in the dark, charges up the steps, fighting each other to get into the lobby. Several never make it as bodies fall with grunts, flashlights rolling out of reach. Those that do make it clamber through the lobby and head for both wings, several coming straight toward me. A few squat behind debris, firing back.
I retrace my steps, flying up the hallway. The ceiling above me hangs low, ready to cave in, and I crouch in the dark amongst the debris and listen to the gun battle waging. My heart beats in tune to the clattering noises, and the Serum begins to click in defense.
I pull my breath in more deeply, trying to control the sudden impulses storming through me. My survival stem whirs beneath the surface, ready to fight, to do what I was programmed to do, but I clench my fist against the urge. I don’t want to be a soldier. I don’t want to kill anybody. I just want to go home. I need to get out.
The coward who rises up in me fills me with shame. After all my big words, I’m ready to quit because things have gotten a little unpredictable. I guess I just wasn’t expecting to be trapped inside when I faced this enemy.
I’m suddenly angry with my dad for letting me come here. For once, I wish he’d stopped me—really stopped me this time. Why hadn’t he put his foot down?
I bite my lip against my emotions, fighting tears. Is that really what I would have wanted? I’ve always appreciated my parents respecting that I have a mind of my own. They raised me to be a thinker, to take care of myself, to do what need
s to be done when it needs to be done. I did just that, and the Serum is gone because of it. Now, things turn sour, and I decide to put the blame on my dad for my actions?
Wrong. I knew the risk.
My anger dissolves as quickly as it came, and I examine the ceiling again. It hangs so low, it prevents me from standing to my full height. I shove on it, and a large piece breaks free and crashes to the ground. I freeze, my eyes darting up the hallway before I look up through the hole. A section of the roof is exposed through the metal rafters, revealing the domed-ceiling of Eden. I squint. There’s my answer.
The roof.
I don’t waste another minute. With a silent prayer on my lips, I slide the headlamp into place, flipping on the ever-dimming light. I use a portion of the collapsed structure to climb up onto the criss-crossed beams, and I leap for an A-shaped section of rafters and scurry across to the edge of the building—just below the gaping hole in the roof. I hoist myself up and balance on the edge. In no time, I’m out.
From this vantage point, I can see most of the city. In the distance, the main gate is completely gone, along with the equalization chamber, and real live daylight leaks into Eden for the first time. I rise up on my knees, and the shock at seeing the devastation at the wall with my own eyes rivets through me. And just below me, the dark lumps of still bodies dot the area, some smoldering. I can’t tell how many are Vortex soldiers and how many are Eden’s guards. Or Rovers. Nausea rises in my stomach. Movement at the gate catches my attention, and the daylight begins to diminish as small shadows work to erect a barricade. I ease back against the roof, numb.
My family invades my thoughts. I scan the rooftops for Town Hall and then for my own house. Several buildings and houses smoke, black plumes rising up to curl against the dome, and a few flames flicker in the dark, but the streets are deserted. There is no enemy, no one fighting.
A shout from below turns my attention back to the front steps of the lab. Only a scattering of Vortex soldiers remain outside the building, and one by one they’re pinged off by an invisible attacker. The bullet blasts pop loudly with each kill, and I roll onto my stomach and peer over the edge of the roof, searching for the hidden gunman. It’s too dark to see anything, but I understand the strategy immediately. The Vortex has been forced into the lab.
