“Jon!”
“When I left the basement, she was still sleeping,” he replied curtly. “I think she’s prepping lunch today.”
I ran back to the stairs.
“Trust me, Jon,” I called over my shoulder. “Get outta here. Now.”
He didn’t even acknowledge that I had said anything. He just picked up a battery and installed it in a lantern. I had the sick feeling that it was the last time I was going to see Jon Purcell.
I half ran, half jumped down the several flights of stairs that led to the ground level of the building and sprinted through the long structure until I got to the stairs leading to the basement. I passed a few people along the way, and I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t warn them. It would have taken too long to explain, and based on Jon’s reaction, they wouldn’t have believed me anyway. If I stopped, even to talk to one person, I wouldn’t get to Olivia in time. I promised myself that once I found her and we were on our way back to the Explorer, I’d shout out a warning. There was no way anyone would be more inclined to believe me than Jon was, but it might just put them on alert enough so that when they saw the soldiers arriving, they’d have the presence of mind to protect themselves.
That’s how I justified not stopping, but the truth was that I was more worried about saving Olivia than people I didn’t know. I hated myself for making that choice . . . but I didn’t stop either.
I hit the basement and grabbed a headlamp. People were already up and out, so I found myself running between rows of empty cots. When I finally made it to our section, I flashed my light on Olivia’s bunk to find that it was empty.
“Damn!”
I turned back the way I had come, ready to run for the stairs, when I saw the light from another lamp headed my way.
“Olivia? Is that you?”
I would have been totally surprised if it was. How random would that have been? But I was desperate.
The lamp bobbed closer and stopped about ten yards from me.
“Who is that?” I called out.
No answer.
I stood there staring at the light as my skin began to crawl.
“You gonna answer me?” I asked.
“Hello, Tucker,” came a calm, familiar voice.
It was the one voice I didn’t want to hear.
It was Chris Campbell.
How much did he know about what I knew? I had to force myself to act as though nothing was wrong.
“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 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 give them a clue.
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 be 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 each other 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.
“Tucker!” Olivia called, scolding. “What exactly are you doing?”
My brain froze. I couldn’t calculate another move.
“Jon?” I said. “What the hell?”
“I’m doing this for you, Tucker,” Jon replied. “I don’t know what it is you saw, but these are our friends. They’ve done nothing but take care of us. We can’t turn on them.”
If I hadn’t been out of my mind, I would have jumped at Jon and punched him in the head.
“You told Chris I was looking for Olivia?” I asked, hardly believing it myself.
“Yes, he did,” Chris said as he walked up behind me, casually tapping the black weapon against his leg. “Jon is far more appreciative of what we’ve done here than you seem to be.”
“Why are you making everybody so crazy, Tucker?” Olivia asked. “They’re protecting us.”
Other survivors started gathering to see what the ruckus was all about.
Chris and the cowboys stood there with smug smiles on their faces. They knew the truth, and they knew I was done.
I had only one play left: a Hail Mary.
“We’ve been lied to!” I shouted to the group. “By Chris Campbell and everybody who works with him. The survivors who left here didn’t move on. They were taken to Fenway Park to help the murderers build a structure.”
There were confused murmurs followed by a guy who called out, “What kind of structure?”
“I . . . I don’t know. But it was huge. Right in the middle of the field.”
That got a couple of skeptical laughs.
“It’s true! But it was destroyed by SYLO. They bombed it. Didn’t you hear the explosions? Or see the fighters fly over?”
One of the cowboys shouted, “Maybe it was a monument to the Yankees, and the Red Sox blew it up!”
That got another laugh.
“You don’t have to believe me,” I yelled to the group. “You’re going to find out for yourselves soon enough. There’s a group of soldiers headed this way. They’ll be here any minute. They don’t need us anymore, and I’m afraid they’re going to wipe us out the same way they did so much of the rest of the population.”
Chris shouted, “Or maybe they just heard how good we have it here and want to stay for lunch!”
That got a cheer from the crowd. They loved Chris. He was their protector. Their benefactor.
He would be their executioner.
“I’m telling the truth!” I screamed. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now!”
Chris and the cowboys didn’t even make a move to shut me up. They knew I had no credibility. I saw them exchange knowing looks and laugh. These guys were ruthless. They knew what was coming, and they were enjoying the warm-up.
Olivia took a step forward and held her hand out for me to take it.
“Let’s go, Tucker,” she said softly, as if she were trying to calm a raving lunatic.
“No,” Chris said. “I think we should all stay right here and welcome these soldiers that Tucker warned us about. What do you think, Tucker?”
That got another laugh.
I wanted to smack the guy. He was keeping everyone together because it would be so much easier for the soldiers to do their dirty work if we were all in one place.
I suddenly realized that instead of warning these people, I had managed to gather them together like sheep to be slaughtered.
“Come on out, everybody!” Chris commanded. “Looks like we’re in for an exciting afternoon!”
People flooded out of the buildings. And why not? Chris was their Santa Claus. He gave them food and shelter and protection from the big bad black planes.
I turned to him and asked, “Why?”
Chris shrugged and answered softly so that nobody else could hear.
“Don’t take it personally. You should be proud. You’re all making a sacrifice for the greater good.”
“Hey!” came a terrified shout. “Look out!”
People suddenly scattered, screaming with surprise and panic.
I figured it was the beginning of the end and that the soldiers had arrived.
“Don’t worry,” Chris said to me. “It won’t be painful.”
He was wrong. It was going to be very painful.
The soldiers hadn’t arrived . . . it was Tori.
Kent was behind the wheel of the Explorer, headed directly toward us. People dove out of the way of the careening SUV. The group of cowboys stood their ground and pulled out their own baton weapons . . . too late. Kent drove into them, scattering bodies like bowling pins. I heard several sickening thuds as they were hit dead on.
I didn’t care.
Olivia screamed.
Chris lifted his weapon and took aim at the car . . . as I took aim at Chris. I threw myself at him and wrapped my arms around his body, driving him to the ground with the best open-field tackle I’d ever made. I landed on top of him and wrestled the black baton out of his hands. I had no idea how to use it, and even if I did I was too close to him to fire, so I did the next best thing: I swung the handle and hit him on the side of the head, knocking his cocky smile into next week.
I shouldn’t say that it felt good.
It felt good.
The Explorer screeched to a stop directly in front of us.
“Giddyap, Rook!” Kent shouted.
I looked for Olivia. She stood alone, looking bewildered.
“Get in!” I yelled to her.
She hesitated a moment as if debating what to do.
“Now!” I screamed.
That shook her out of her own head. She focused and ran for the Explorer.
Jon, on the other hand, still looked paralyzed.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked, near tears.
His answer came in the form of another explosion . . . and a scream.
In the center of the cour
tyard, four people were blown off their feet as the bricks beneath them erupted.
The Air Force had arrived.
On the far end of the courtyard, the soldiers were advancing as if it was a military assault . . . because it was. They walked in a loose formation with one guy at the point and the others fanning out behind him like an arrow, giving each a clear shot at their victims. Every one of them held a black baton gun.
Every one of them opened fire.
“Get in the damn car!” Tori screamed at Olivia.
She ducked down and jumped in the back.
A cowboy took a run at us and fell in his tracks as Tori dropped him with a shot to his legs.
“You coming?” I shouted to Jon.
Jon looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He nodded quickly but didn’t move, so I grabbed his arm, pushed him toward the car, yanked the door open, and shoved him inside.
“Go!” I shouted.
Kent jammed on the gas before I could close the door.
All around us, people were being hit. The invisible projectiles of energy peppered the air and blasted people off of their feet. It was exactly as I feared. It was a slaughter. I couldn’t help but wonder if any more people would have been saved if I had stopped to warn them earlier.
Kent careened through the courtyard, doing his best to weave through the mass of fleeing people.
I twisted around to look out the back window as the glass shattered, sending a spray of sharp shards into the car.
“Don’t stop!” I shouted at Kent.
“Like there’s a chance of that,” he shouted back.
Another charge hit the ground in front of us, spewing bits of exploded brick into the front grille, which made it sound like we’d been hit by buckshot. It didn’t slow us down. We were quickly moving out of range. Kent drove the Explorer out of the courtyard and onto the street, leaving the carnage behind.
Once in the clear, Kent drove even faster. Nobody complained. We wanted to get as far away as quickly as possible. Minutes later we were on the interstate, and Boston was in the rearview mirror.
“We’re clear,” I said to Kent. “You can go subsonic now.”
Kent didn’t let up. He was too deep in the zone.
Tori touched his arm gently, making him start as if her touch were electric.