Code Name Flood

by Laura Martin

  Shawn groaned. “You’re missing the point. Which is that it’s huge, way bigger than anything underground, so it can house a lot of stuff. But the important thing is that it’s big enough to hide a few thousand square feet without anyone being the wiser. That place had so many underground stores, restaurants, storage rooms, and mechanical areas that one or two of them could disappear from the current maps and no one would notice. That’s why I think the Noah’s headquarters have to be there, right underneath the floors of Grand Central Terminal.” When no one said anything or looked properly impressed, Shawn sighed. “You’ll understand when we get there. Which” – he pulled out his port and consulted it as we ran – “should be in just a few minutes. Turn right at this next tunnel.” We did, and almost ran headfirst into two huge pentaceratops. We skidded to a stop. Chaz slipped, falling hard on her butt before scrambling to her feet and backing up hastily. She stretched her arms out, backing us up with her.

  The dinosaurs’ enormous bodies blocked almost the entire tunnel as they snuffled through what looked like an abandoned cart of turnips and potatoes. Their teeth crunched on the crisp roots as they devoured the hard work of the East Compound farmers. One of them looked up, inspecting us with big brown eyes.

  “We need to find another route,” Chaz whispered through gritted teeth. “Those guys could crush us or impale us in a minute if they wanted to.”

  “We can’t,” Shawn said with a quick glance down at the map he had pulled up on his port screen. “Every other route is going to take us miles out of our way. We need to go down this tunnel.” The pentaceratops that had been eyeing us snorted and turned back to the cart. Lowering its head, it used one of the massive horns that arched over its eyebrows to spear a crate. With a quick flick it sent the crate crashing into the concrete wall, where it popped open, releasing a flood of small brown potatoes. The dinosaurs began eating, ignoring us completely.

  “Who cares if it takes longer,” Todd hissed. “We can make up the time.”

  “You might be right,” Shawn said, consulting the map again. Suddenly we heard the sharp cadence of booted feet coming from the tunnel we’d just left, followed by someone shouting out orders. The marines.

  “Well, there goes that idea,” Shawn said, shoving his port back in his bag. “We have to go around.”

  “As long as they don’t see us as a threat, we should be OK,” Chaz said, biting her lip with a nervous glance behind us.

  “I’ll go first,” Shawn said gallantly, already moving to the right-hand side of the tunnel, farthest away from the two dinosaurs who were still gorging themselves on potatoes. The sound of approaching voices and footsteps coming from the tunnel behind us was getting louder by the second, and the knot of fear in my stomach tightened. Todd moved to follow Shawn, but Chaz grabbed him, shaking her head.

  “One at a time,” she whispered. “Less likely to spook them that way.” We watched Shawn inch his way down the tunnel, his back pressed to the wall as he watched the dinosaurs warily. At one point, he was less than two feet away from the powerful hind legs of one of them, and if it had decided to back up at that moment, he would have been smashed. He finally made it past, and with a tiny wave he moved a good twenty yards down the tunnel to wait. Todd went next, followed by Chaz a minute later. The pentaceratops went right on eating. I was last.

  I’d edged around the first dinosaur without any problem and was halfway around the second when a pack of six marines burst around the corner. They came to a fumbling stop, yelping in surprise as they caught sight of the living roadblock. The startled dinosaurs lifted their heads up with disgruntled snorts, blowing out hard through their noses as they inspected this newest intrusion. The dinosaur closest to me stamped its foot so hard the ground trembled.

  “There they are!” One of the marines shouted, and before I could react, he’d shouldered a gun and fired. The bullet missed, blasting into the stone a foot above my head before ricocheting off to hit the flank of an already unhappy pentaceratops. It squealed, and I barely avoided being trampled as it dropped its head to charge the marines. Turning, I sprinted towards Shawn, Todd, and Chaz as bullets pinged off the ground and ceiling. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed that the two pentaceratops were standing their ground, heads bent as they defended their stash of potatoes. I could only hope they would buy us the time we needed to get to Grand Central Terminal.

  But I’d forgotten about Sprout.

  I tripped as my bad leg almost gave out, and she let out a frightened croak. The sounds from behind us changed immediately. The territorial snorts and grunts the dinosaurs had been making to keep the marines at bay turned into enraged bellows. The same bellows I’d heard when I was topside in the middle of their nesting ground, and I knew all too well what that meant. The pentaceratops whirled to face us and charged.

  “We seriously cannot catch a break,” Todd cried as we took off down the tunnel at a dead sprint. It sounded like we were being chased by thunder, and bits of concrete and dust fell from the ceiling as the tunnel shuddered and shook. We had a head start, and the pentaceratops weren’t nearly as quick as the condorraptors had been, but they would catch us eventually.

  “Please tell me we’re close to Grand Central,” Chaz called to Shawn.

  “It shouldn’t be much further,” he said, gasping.

  A quick glance over my shoulder showed that the pentaceratops weren’t the only thing we had to worry about. Behind them ran the six marines. Even if we made it to the station, we were going to have them to deal with. One step at a time, I reminded myself. My injured leg was on fire, and I blinked away the black spots that clustered at the edge of my vision. The tunnel curved slightly to the right, and I saw a subway platform up ahead. The wall on our left transitioned from rough concrete to smooth white tile, and I could have cried in relief when I saw the words GRAND CENTRAL inlaid in small black tiles. Together we raced up to the platform and sprinted across it to the concrete staircase set in the far wall.

  No sooner had my feet hit the first stair than the pentaceratops caught up with us. Unlike the condorraptors, they didn’t bother with the stairs. Instead they charged the platform. The corner they hit gave way with an eardrum-shattering crack, sending concrete flying in all directions. 150 years of rust and decay had made the underlying supports weak, and the decimated corner created a ripple effect, causing the rest of the platform to buckle and crack. I stumbled and would have fallen backwards onto the collapsing platform if Shawn hadn’t snaked out a hand and caught me, pulling me back at the last second. With a crash, the remaining concrete of the subway platform broke and crumbled inward. We raced up the stairs before the rampaging dinosaurs could manoeuver their way over the rubble. I caught one last glimpse of the bigger of the two dinosaurs ripping chunks out of the narrow stairwell before we reached the top, and they disappeared from sight.

  Shawn led us up another set of stairs, followed by an even longer hallway. Suddenly, Todd skidded to a stop, and I almost collided with his back.

  We were standing in the doorway of the most massive room I’d ever seen. The tile floors gleamed, and a domed ceiling arched so far overhead I could barely make out the faint artwork etched on its surface. Bits and pieces of it had crumbled away, and cracks ran the length of the room, patched over with thick ribbons of concrete. Rectangular stone columns lined the sides of the space, and a sweeping double staircase graced the far end. In the centre of the room was a circular concrete booth with an ornate clock attached to the top.

  Hanging from the arched ceiling high above our heads was a humongous flag. The Noah’s golden-ark crest was emblazoned across it. Behind the flag were windows, or what used to be windows. The glass was gone, presumably shattered when the building was buried over 150 years ago. The holes where they’d once been were now filled with compacted rubble instead of sunlight.

  “Wow,” Todd breathed.

  “This way,” Shawn called impatiently, and I tore my attention away from the ceiling to see him standing ten
yards into the room. He’d kept running, unaware that we’d all stopped to gawk like idiots. I elbowed Todd and Chaz in the ribs to get their attention, and took off again, our footsteps echoing eerily off the cavernous walls.

  The first bullet was silent. We were almost to the circular concrete-and-glass structure that supported the impressive clock when a fine spray of concrete hit my back. I turned, not sure what was happening, and saw the second bullet hit the ground a foot behind Chaz.

  “Watch out!” I screamed as another bullet pinged off the concrete to my right. A second later bullets were flying at us from every direction, and I glanced frantically around, trying to spot a shooter. The stairs were still too far away, and I knew there was no way we’d make it without at least one of us getting hit.

  Shawn must have come to the same conclusion, because he dived for the much closer circular booth I’d noticed earlier. It had obviously been a ticket booth for the subway in its past life, but now it apparently functioned as some sort of office. I had just enough time to see the sign that said MARINES over the door before Shawn reached it, yanked his backpack off, and launched the entire thing through one of the opaque glass windows. He threw himself through the newly created hole, reappearing a moment later to haul Chaz inside. Todd didn’t even slow down, diving through the ragged opening headfirst. I managed to somehow clamber inside, falling hard on my hands and knees. Stumbling to my feet, I turned around and froze. In the middle of the room stood two marines, grinning broadly as they pointed long black guns at my friends’ chests.

  We had nowhere to run. The taller of the two marines grabbed a small black port screen out of his belt, tapped its surface, and waited a moment until it lit up.

  “Report, soldier,” came the voice of another marine from the port’s speaker.

  “We have apprehended all four children trying to infiltrate marine headquarters,” he said. “Please communicate with the dinosaur prevention squad to hold their fire. All they’re doing is wasting bullets and ruining our office.”

  “Affirmative” came the reply. “Detain the prisoners. Backup will arrive shortly.”

  “Yes, sir,” the marine replied.

  A moment later the sound of bullets ricocheting off concrete stopped, and in the sudden silence, I could hear Sprout’s pitiful squeaking cry.

  “What’s that?” the other marine asked sharply. He was older than the first marine, with sharp blue eyes that shifted nervously from side to side.

  “Who cares,” said the younger blond marine. “We just caught the four kids the great General Kennedy couldn’t. Do you know what this means, Rob? Promotions,” he crowed.

  Sprout let out a high-pitched shrieking cry again, and the older marine jumped. I really wished that someone so twitchy wasn’t holding a gun on us.

  “Relax,” commanded the blond marine. He turned to us. “Take off those bows,” he said. “Now.”

  Todd looked like he wanted to refuse, but he grudgingly took off his leather quiver with its handful of arrows and set it on the ground. He followed this with his bow, stepping back with a murderous look on his face.

  “Now you,” the twitchy marine said, jerking his chin at me. Not seeing many other options, I laid down my bow next to Todd’s and stepped back.

  “The quiver too,” the marine barked. “Do it now.”

  “But—” I protested.

  “Now!” he thundered. Swallowing hard, I removed my quiver and set it gingerly on the ground. Sprout was still curled up inside it, burrowed down into the bottom, and I prayed she wouldn’t come out. The blond marine leant down to Todd’s quiver and pulled out the handful of arrows with a sneer.

  “Do you see this?” he asked the other marine. “They just charged into our headquarters with nothing but a handful of sticks.” Taking the whole bunch in his hands, he slammed them down over his knee, breaking them in half. Todd made a choking sound next to me.

  “Kennedy couldn’t catch you guys?” the marine went on with a sneer. “I think he might be losing his edge.” Without taking his eyes off us, he reached into my quiver to grab my arrows, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  He ripped his hand out of my quiver to reveal Sprout still attached to the meaty part of his palm. There was an audible crunch, and the marine screamed again, flailing his hand wildly.

  “Get it off!” he shrieked. The twitchy marine raised his gun and fired at Sprout, barely missing Chaz and shattering the glass behind us. Todd dived for his bow, grabbing it and a handful of arrows from my quiver and jumping behind a metal desk. The older marine turned his gun from Sprout to Todd. Shawn and Chaz dived behind him while I lunged forward, snatching up my own bow and quiver before rolling behind another desk. Stringing an arrow to my bow, I stood up, ready to fire. But I was too late. The older marine was already down, two arrows sprouting from his shoulder. His gun clattered to the ground, and Chaz ran forward to scoop it up before training it on the blond marine, who still had Sprout hanging from his mangled and bleeding hand. He froze as he took in his fallen companion and the gun in Chaz’s hands.

  “Tie them up,” Chaz said. “Hurry.”

  “With what?” I asked as I took in our surroundings for the first time. The room was sparse and small, with only a few desks and a black metal pole in the centre.

  “Improvise,” she hissed, not taking her eyes off the two marines. Shawn stepped forward, already ripping strips of fabric off his compound uniform sleeves. He thrust a handful of the thick grey cloth at me before quickly tying up the older marine to a nearby desk. I approached the blond marine warily. His face was a mixture of fury and pain, and I risked a glance at Sprout, still attached firmly to his hand.

  “I’m going to need some help,” I called over my shoulder to Todd. A moment later he was at my side, pulling the marine’s dinosaur-free arm roughly behind his back. Careful not to startle her, I gently grasped Sprout by her round middle.

  “It’s OK,” I murmured softly. “You did good. You can let go now.” Nothing happened. “Please, girl,” I coaxed. “That can’t taste good.” Just when I was beginning to worry that I was going to have to leave this brave little creature behind, she released her hold and huddled against my chest, trembling.

  “We should have kept going for the stairs,” I said as I carefully replaced Sprout in my quiver. “Now we’re trapped, and these guys’ backups are going to be here any minute.”

  “We aren’t trapped,” Chaz said. We all turned to see her standing by the thick metal pole. She was staring at the ground, and we hurried over to join her. At her feet was a narrow spiral staircase that disappeared into the floor, invisible unless you were right on top of it.

  Without hesitating, Todd began jogging down them two at a time. We followed quickly and a few moments later we found ourselves in a dimly lit passageway. Unlike the subway tunnels or the hallways that had led up to Grand Central Terminal, this place was narrow, with a ceiling so low Todd’s head missed scraping it by barely an inch.

  It was obvious that this tunnel was not part of the original station. The walls were made by unskilled hands, and the stairs we’d just climbed down had a makeshift appearance to them. Mismatched lights borrowed from other sections of the compound hung at irregular intervals down the length of the slightly lopsided walls. “I hope you’re right about this,” I said. “I expected to find someplace a little more polished for the Noah’s headquarters.”

  Shawn grimaced. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “Well, there is only one way to find out,” Todd said, pulling his bow up to the ready position. I did the same, and we led the way down the murky hallway.

  Less than three minutes later, the makeshift passageway ended, and we entered part of the original station again. The room was small and made entirely of smooth concrete. Five large metal doors were set in the far wall. To our right was a hallway lit with bright fluorescent lights curving away out of sight.

  “What was this place?” Chaz asked, glancing around. “It doesn’t look li
ke the Noah’s headquarters now.”

  Shawn motioned for us to follow him and turned towards the hallway. Todd shot his hand out, pulling him up short.

  “It does look like a prison, though.” He strode forward to yank at the closest door. Nothing happened. “It’s locked.” Todd grunted, giving it another frustrated tug.

  “Well, it would be a really crummy prison if the doors were unlocked,” Chaz muttered under her breath, but she moved to help Todd with the door.

  “Give me a second and I might be able to do something about that door,” Shawn said, hurrying over to where a small holoscreen monitor was embedded in the concrete. “Maybe,” he added. He stared at it for a second, brow furrowed, before pulling his port out. I jogged up to the next door and gave the handle an experimental jerk. It was locked as well. Todd shouldered me aside, giving the door his own yank before moving on to the next. His eyes were wide and frantic, and I knew he was picturing everyone he knew and loved trapped on the other side of those doors. From the tunnel behind us came the sound of running feet.

  “We’re out of time,” I whispered. “That’s the marine’s backup.”

  Shawn was about to shove his port back in his bag when Todd pushed past him roughly to yank at the first door again. When it didn’t budge, he pulled his bow off his back and notched an arrow.

  “I’m not going,” Todd said through gritted teeth. “My mom is in here. I know it. You guys run if you want. But I’m done running.”

  Shawn stood frozen for a second, looking torn, then he muttered something unintelligible and turned back to the holoscreen again. The sound of running footsteps got louder, and I strung my own bow, ready to fire as soon as I saw movement.

  “Got it!” Shawn whispered, and ran to the first door Todd had tried to open. He punched six numbers into the small keypad beside the door handle, consulted his port, and then typed in five more. With a click the door unlocked, and he held it open while Todd and Chaz rushed inside. The footsteps were getting louder by the second. I stood my ground, bow still drawn, until Shawn was through the door. Without taking my eyes off the tunnel, I quickly backed inside. Shawn shut the iron door softly. Immediately, I pressed my ear to the cold metal. The approaching footsteps got louder and louder, and I tightened my grip on my bow. But then the sound started to recede. They’d passed us, not bothering to check the doors they knew to be locked. I sagged in relief, and noticed Shawn out of the corner of my eye. His face was an alarming white, and his port hung forgotten at his side.